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gingersnaaps · 3 years

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tetraphobia

maybe seijoh's revenge doesn't always have to be on the court. maybe seijoh's revenge can come in the form of fucking kageyama's sweet little girlfriend.

wc: 3.3k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): explicit n*fw, noncon, gangbang, mindbreak, victim blaming/guilt, forced infidelity, hints of sadism, anal, double penetration, deepthroat, cunnilingus, sorta overstim? idk this is very nasty, fem!reader with inner genitals, timeskip!characters

a/n: this is for @somecravings' gangbang collab! this work features the seijoh four.

i don’t want minors interacting with my content

“I wonder where Tobio-chan found himself such a cute girlfriend.”

The words freeze you in your tracks.

A tall, well-built, man leans against the wall of the hotel hallway, the cramped space making him loom large in front of you. You think he’s a stranger at first - but a closer look at the waves of his chestnut hair, his molten hazel eyes - and memories of the pictures Tobio had shown you flood back into your mind.

Oikawa Tooru, he’d told you. Teammates at Kitagawa Daiichi, and then rivals at Karasuno and Aoba Johsai. I took away his last chance to make it to nationals in high school. Now he’s on Argentina’s national team. Looked up to him a lot, but we had a… strained relationship.

His eyes flicker back to the faded yearbook photos, an unmistakable note of bitterness in his voice.

The very same Oikawa Tooru from his pictures stands in the hallway leading to your hotel room, arms crossed and eyes glittering with amusement.

Almost as if he’d been waiting there for you.

“He’s out celebrating his win, isn’t he?” he says, cocking his head to one side. “Along with the rest of his team.”

He steps closer, walking towards you until he’s mere feet away. You can see where the hem of his blue jersey peeks out from beneath his jacket, the white of his teeth glinting as he grins. Up close, he’s even more intimidating, and you suppress the sudden surge of discomfort that crawls beneath your skin.

Your eyes flit back and forth, eyebrows creasing in confusion. “Is there something you need?”

“Yes,” he says, his hand reaching out to stroke gently along your cheek. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor, sweetheart.”

Panic seizes you when his cold, calloused, fingertips brush lightly along your skin, your heart thudding as discomfort rips through your body. You don’t know what his intentions are, but his words scare you. There’s nothing genuine about his tone, nothing kind, and years of too-close encounters with men have left you wary and alert. His touch is invasive, contemptuous, mocking, and you jerk away from his hand in an attempt to backpedal-

Warm hands clamp down around your shoulders in an iron grip. Your heart sinks as you realize you’ve got nowhere to go, dread seeping into every vein in your body.

“I’m a little late. Sorry.”

The voice at your ear is a low rasp, his tone nonchalant, but you can hear the message that undercuts it as clear as day: you’re not going anywhere.

“Don’t worry about it, Iwa,” Oikawa says, fingers curling around your chin, tilting your face up forcefully until you’re staring directly into his eyes. “You got here just in time to help me out. She looked like she was about to run away for a while there. Can you imagine?”

The man behind you - Iwaizumi Hajime, you recall - chuckles. “Wouldn’t get very far.”

Your blood runs cold at the implication of his words. Your stomach churns, an awful, nauseous feeling that makes you feel sick, shoulders tensing as you struggle against Iwaizumi’s hold.

“Hey,” he warns quietly. “Don’t make this harder on yourself.”

His words almost make you want to laugh; he says them like he’s trying to help you, like he genuinely cares about your well-being. You remember the late-night talks you and Kageyama would have, the ones where he’d describe his days spent in middle school, secluded and walled off from the other players on his team. There was always one name he spoke with a particular reverence: Iwaizumi Hajime. Tough. Strong. Kind. A good man, he’d emphasized. I’m glad he was there during those years.

Well, this certainly was a reality check, wasn't it?

He removes his hands from your shoulders and wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you pressed close to his side, as if a reminder of you how powerless you are in this position. “Come on, baby,” he says. “Let’s go.”

“It’d be rude to keep Makki and Mattsun waiting any longer."

Oikawa slides his fingers into yours until the two of you are holding hands, humming happily as Iwaizumi escorts you down the hall towards your own hotel room. It takes every last ounce of self-control to stop yourself from crying and screaming on the spot, to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over, to save yourself the embarrassment of breaking down pathetically as these people - these assholes - watch.

You get the feeling that they’re not going to leave you alone out of pity.

They escort you to your hotel room, passing by rows and rows of rooms that blur as your vision tunnels. Their presence is suffocating; Oikawa’s fingers brush against your wrist, rubbing tender circles into your skin, and you can feel Iwaizumi's warm breath on the crown of your head.

Oikawa grabs the key card from your purse, sliding it into the scanner, and pushes the door open when it lights up green.

Your heart stills with fear as they drag you inside, flicking the light switch open until the room glows softly.

There’s two more people sitting in the bed.

A tall, lanky man waves in acknowledgement, nudging his companion in the side as his eyes flicker appraisingly over you.

The other man looks up, tossing his phone aside, blowing aside a stray strand of strawberry-pink hair.

“Hmm. I hate to say this, but Oikawa was right,” he says, a wry grin on his face. “What a pretty girl.”

You feel so vulnerable with four pairs of eyes roaming over every inch of your body, your mind running rampant with fear and anticipation as they admire and scrutinize. And you’d be right to be scared, because there’s so much they can’t wait to do, so much of you they’ve been dying to explore, so many of their little fantasies that they’ve been waiting for the right girl to help them act out.

You’ll help them out, won’t you?

Without warning, there’s a pair of hands on your waist insistently pushing you downwards, applying steady pressure until your legs collapse and you’re forced to your knees.

“So impatient, Iwa.” Oikawa clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “You won’t even let her get settled in?”

There‘s a huff of annoyance above you. “The more you talk, the less I’m going to enjoy this.”

“Alright, alright.”

Oikawa slides a hand onto the back of your neck, the other moving to grip your hair. His touch is gentle, fingers stroking along your pulse point, but you know it won’t last if you misbehave. You have no illusions about the kind of person he is, not when his hands maneuver your mouth and throat into nothing more than a warm fleshlight for his friend.

Iwaizumi palms himself in front of your face, hands skimming over the bulge in his jeans as he groans in pleasure, and pulls out his half hard cock, veins throbbing and flushed with arousal. Cupping your face in his hand, he fits the tip to your soft lips and tilts your chin upwards to meet his piercing, lust-filled eyes, his gaze swirling with want.

“Open up for me like a good girl, okay?” he growls.

You can’t help the way your cunt pulses at his tone, an intoxicating rush of fear and desire that leaves your mind hazy and mouth dropping open. He doesn’t waste the opportunity, pushing his cock into your warm, wet, mouth, a moan falling from his lips as he thrusts his hips forwards. You retch at the intrusion, instinctively jerking your head backwards, but Oikawa’s grip on your neck tightens as he holds you in place. He crouches down, lips finding your ear as Iwaizumi starts sliding in and out of your mouth.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “If you take it like you’re supposed to, he won’t last too long.”

At those words, his hands push your head forward, impaling your throat on his cock, holding you down as you choke and drool and retch. Your eyes redden as silvery tears drip through your lashes, panic rising, vision turning to static, the pain in your lungs growing unbearable as Oikawa’s smile turns razor sharp. “Atta girl,” he encourages softly, his thumb wiping away one of the tears running down your cheek. “I think he’s gonna cum soon if you keep this up.”

If you keep this up. As if you have a choice.

Iwaizumi’s thrusts grow more erratic, fucking you rougher and faster as he slams in and out of your throat. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath. “Such a good fucking girl for me. Got such a - such a perfect little mouth, taking me so well,” he says, breath catching.

Just like Oikawa had predicted, he doesn’t last much longer after that, hips stuttering when he spills down your waiting throat. He tastes warm and slightly salty, the last few drops of his cum dripping down your chin as he presses a thumb to your lips and wipes away the drool collecting at the corner.

There’s a horrible, sinking, feeling settling inside you as he grabs the collar of your shirt and hoists you up with him onto the bed, your limbs going limp as you let him press an open-mouthed kiss to your trembling lips, his tongue slipping inside of your slack mouth.

You feel used.

Up close to Iwaizumi, you can see the flush of arousal coloring his bronzed cheeks, the sheen of sweat on his forehead, all the physical evidence of just how good you made him feel, and your stomach churns.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel fingers softly stroking at your clit, light, teasing strokes back and forth that leave you whimpering. A twinge of arousal pulses in your cunt as you hear words murmured against your inner thigh.

“Didn’t even try to fight back, did you?” There’s a gentle laugh from the pink-haired man beneath you, soft and terrifying, and the light brushes turn into more insistent circles. “It’s almost like you wanted it.”

Iwaizumi’s tongue curls deeper into your mouth as he deepens the kiss, leaving you gasping for breath.

“I had no idea you’d turn out to be such a slut,” he hums, mouth latching onto your thigh. “Although I’m really not complaining.”

“C’mon, Makki, don’t be so mean to her,” Iwaizumi chuckles, his teeth scraping roughly against your lips.

“I’m only telling the truth.”

The fingers circling your pussy creep upwards, grabbing onto your hips and pushing you down against the mattress. “Keep those legs spread nice and open for me, okay?” Makki says, voice sweet and cloying.

When the flat of his tongue brushes against your clit, his breath huffing warm on your folds, your thighs twitch involuntarily. It’s as if he’s made it his mission to eat you out as slow and light as possible, his kitten-licks and teasing strokes sliding along your folds and circling around your sweet spots without ever truly giving you the satisfaction that your cunt craves.

And he can tell you’re starting to break.

As Iwaizumi’s mouth moves down to suck at your neck, lips brushing along the erratic heartbeat of your pulse point, your hips jerk upwards against Makki’s waiting mouth as a moan slips out from between your lips.

He sucks at your aching clit, the steady, constant pressure making you writhe in his grasp. “Cute little cunt wants more, doesn’t i?” he coos.

You don’t dare say a word, face flushed with embarrassment as you bite your inner cheek in embarrassment. Makki’s right.

He’s right, and you hate that he’s right, hate how good he’s making you feel with every long, languid, lick, with every brush of his lips that leaves your walls throbbing in search of more.

A hand picks up your limp wrist, guiding your fingers until they wrap around something warm and hard, something incredibly thick and so, so, long -

You freeze as you realize it’s a cock.

“Mattsun’s blessed, isn’t he?” Makki laughs from between your thighs. “Maybe now you’ll understand that I’m really trying to do you a favor. We want these sheets stained with cum, not blood.”

You swallow nervously. That monster cock, so big you can barely fit your hand around it, is going inside you.

You’re paralyzed with dread, not even bothering to fight back as he maneuvers your palm up and down along his length, wrapping his much larger hand around yours as he uses your fist to help jerk him off.

All the revulsion in the world can’t stop the slow, mounting, wave of pressure building inside your core, growing stronger as Makki sucks with more force against your clit. Crooked fingers push inside your slick, needy, hole, his nimble digits searching and prodding, the pads of his fingertips rubbing insistently at your g-spot.

“See?” he murmurs. “‘m making you feel so good. You’re gonna be nice and ready when I’m done with you.”

You want to scream. You feel like a whore for enjoying anything at all; bile and guilt rising in your throat as white-hot arousal throbs in your cunt.

You’re strung out along the edge when you feel another mouth descending on your body, a tongue flicking out to tease at your nipple. You see a flash of chestnut brown hair as Oikawa looks up at you, a smirk curving at the corners of his mouth, almost as if he knows exactly what he’s doing, knows where your limits are and how to push right past them.

It’s too much for you to handle, too much for you to take. Three mouths ravage your body, tongues flicking out to lick at your neck and suck at your nipples and drag along your clit, silky and sensual against your soft skin, all while your slack hand pumps steadily along the shaft of a huge cock.

When an orgasm rips through your body, it’s like something stolen, something taken from you, and as your hips buck and thrash wildly, an emptiness settles in your stomach after you’re all fucked out from their ministrations.

What’s wrong with you?

At this point, you don’t feel like much more than a sex doll for the four men, all spread out and useless as you lay your head in Iwaizumi’s lap. He strokes gently at your hair, brushing a stray strand out of your face.

You barely even react as Mattsun manhandles you up, large hands positioning your hips until the head of his fully hard cock sits at your entrance, sliding just the tip into your loosened, clenching, hole.

“Ready?” he asks, his half-lidded eyes glinting with amusement.

He doesn’t really care about your answer.

“One… two… three.”

He forces you down on his cock, pushing your hips further and further down as you squirm and struggle and moan from the stretch. Your mind goes foggy as you feel the drag of his cock against the front of your walls, burying itself so deep in your cunt you can almost feel it in your stomach.

Mattsun likes it when his dick makes girls feel good, of course, when he fucks them better than their boyfriends, when he makes them cream and gush after barely moving.

He likes it better when he makes girls go stupid.

As he looks down at you, a warm rush of arousal twists in his gut. Your eyelids flutter in pleasure, mouth open and panting, small hands fisting at his shirt as you moan softly. It’s just too big for you to take, isn’t it? You can't handle being used like a pretty fuckdoll, or eaten out until you cream, or to be impaled on a cock so nice and big you can barely think straight. A string of drool falls from the corner of your mouth, but he doesn’t bother cleaning it up. You look better ruined, he thinks.

You’re dragged out of your fucked-out daze when a voice crawls into your ear, taunting and cruel, and a warm dick presses and slides along your ass.

“Bet Kageyama’s never tried this before,” Oikawa says.

A spurt of terror grips you as you hear the thinly-veiled anticipation in his voice, his fingers trembling with excitement as they grope at your ass.

He holds back a laugh at the way you freeze, shuddering in a mixture of fear and pleasure as Mattsun rolls his hips up and thrusts his cock even deeper. He knows he guessed right, judging from your cute little reaction, a high-pitched, pathetic whimper dropping from your lips as brushes his cock against your hole.

He hopes it hurts.

When he presses in, it’s a slow, aching, stretch that leaves you feeling raw and split wide open. Unlike the dull pain from Mattsun’s cock, this one is a searing, brutal, torment, a stinging intrusion in your tight hole that forces a choked gasp from your lungs.

“Wish your boyfriend could see us right now,” he breathes, pressing a gentle kiss to the crook of your neck. “Feels so good squeezing my cock, so fucking nice and tight.”

Tobio.

Panic races along your veins. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, breasts bouncing slightly as your breaths come shallow and rapid.

“I can’t imagine how he’d feel - seeing his perfect little angel getting stuffed so full in both her precious holes.”

The tightness in your chest bursts as tears stream down your face, cries and moans coming out thick and stuffy as you sob. You know he’s right. It didn’t matter that it was forced, that you said you didn’t want it - you already came once, didn’t you? And judging by the tense pleasure pulsing at your clit, you were due for another sooner or later.

Oikawa laughs. “It’d be awful if he came back right now, wouldn’t it? Just in time to watch his precious little girlfriend getting raped by his former senpai.”

Mattsun snickers, bring a hand up to swipe at your clit. “Look,” he says softly, tilting your head until you lock eyes with Makki.

He’s fisting his cock rapidly, a hungry, predatory, expression on his face, tongue darting out to lick at his lips as he lets out a pleasured groan.

It’s better than almost any of his gross little fantasies. He’s not sure his favorite porn videos will ever be able to compare to the sight of you being fucked stupid and split in two by his friends, two cocks sliding in and out of your tired holes as you cry.

You squeeze your eyes shut as the first waves of the orgasm begin to roll over you. Mattsun’s deft, long, fingers toy with your clit, stroking you insistently through the wild jerking of your hips as he feels your walls fluttering and creaming around the base of his dick. The pleasure is intense, unbearable, almost impossible to hold back, even as disgust crawls beneath your skin at the feeling of being stretched wide open.

Maybe they were right.

All those times you’d thought about what you’d do if this happened, every single night when you’d lie awake and tell yourself, i’ll fight back. i’ll resist. i’ll make them regret ever forcing me -

They were all lies.

Oikawa feels a sick sense of satisfaction as he watches the turmoil in your expression. He can tell by the slump of your shoulders, the bitterness in your gaze, the way you turn over to your side and curl up into a fetal position - they broke you, turned you into a mindless, slutty, fuckdoll, showed you who you really were.

Kageyama can have you back now. He’ll come into this hotel room, horrified at the sight of you passed out and naked, and call the police. Maybe he’ll help wash you up, bring you a cup of tea as you sob and insist that it wasn’t your fault. Maybe he’ll even believe you, despite the way you’ve stained the sheets.

But things won’t ever really be the same for you.

They made sure of it.

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yellowocaballero · 3 years

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Obi-Wan’s a teen dad and Anakin DESPERATELY wants to do crime

A week after Obi-Wan formally took Anakin as his padawan, he left his quarters.

It hadn’t been Obi-Wan’s intention to spend a week lying in bed - or, at times, lying on the living room floor. Or staring blankly at the stove, or holding a toothbrush as he forgot what he was supposed to do with it. It had been his intention to handle the new...arrangements. Put on a brave face. Take care of business. There was so much to do, and Obi-Wan really did want to do it. But he stood in front of the stove staring at its knobs instead, lost.

Anakin had been a good sport about it, at least. He figured out alarmingly quickly how to work the stove and fry up the sliced fruit in their cupboards. Anakin didn’t understand that you didn’t fry fruit, but Obi-Wan ate it with little complaint. He put food in front of Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan ate it. When Anakin asked him, somewhat fearfully, how to use the shower, Obi-Wan showed him and then took one himself. After the third day he left the living quarters semi-frequently, which would have been worrying if Obi-Wan cared.

Obi-Wan’s depressed, grieving, and has an inferiority complex the size of an Alderaanian mountain. Anakin doesn’t know what’s happening, but he does know that the power grid failure was not his fault. Can Obi-Wan ever be a true Jedi and a competent master? Or is his backstory, as told by the Jedi Apprentice novels, too fucking weird?

Rest under the cut.

A week after Obi-Wan formally took Anakin as his padawan, he left his quarters.

On day six, Obi-Wan worked up the energy to turn on his datapad, and was promptly bombarded with messages. They scrolled down the screen, a new one popping up every second.

A lot of them were from his automated specialized education classes. Obi-Wan had finished the required padawan courses when he was sixteen, breezing through each course at his own pace virtually during downtime in transit and on missions. He had signed up for some Knight-level specialized education courses afterwards, loading as many on his plate as he could and managing special permission to complete them all virtually too. Apparently, he had a great deal of assignments due.

Many messages from the Temple administration. Notification for mandatory forms to complete for requisitions, medical care...reports on the Naboo mission...a mountain of forms to complete for the promotion...a mountain of forms for the new padawan...a mountain of forms for processing Qui-gon’s death.

Messages from his friends. How are you doing, Obi-Wan? Are you okay, Obi-Wan? Can we come over and talk, Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan, you stupid bastard, how dare you fight a Sith without me?

Disturbingly, even the master of mission assignments had messaged him. Xe wanted to know if Obi-Wan was going to file for extended reprieve from missions to train his underage padawan in the Temple, or if he wanted to continue taking missions. Decide quickly, Knight Kenobi. Xe are willing to grant three years of light to no missions to help ‘facilitate Padawan Skywalker’s integration into the Jedi’.

The thought made Obi-Wan dizzy. No missions for years? He and Qui-Gon had barely gone weeks without a mission. But Obi-Wan had been thirteen, and Qui-Gon had a particular talent of taking an assignment to mediate standard legislative disputes and turn it into a three month embroilment in an endangered animal trafficking scheme. Staying stuck in the Temple for that amount of time made his skin crawl. Staying at home in the Temple so Anakin could integrate into the Jedi, become the Jedi he dreamed of...

Obi-Wan turned off the pad and tossed it across the room, letting it land on Qui-gon’s private meditation mat. Somehow, he couldn’t really bring himself to care.

Five hours later, Obi-Wan dragged himself out of Qui-gon’s room to find Anakin lying on the floor with what looked like an entire droid disassembled over the carpet. He was kicking his feet in the air, lying on his stomach, stripping some frayed wire.

Obi-Wan stared at him blankly, forms dancing behind his eyes. Anakin needed clothing. They had already processed him through his vaccinations - thank hell - and prescribed him some antibiotics for his multitude of intestinal parasites, but there was no way he was taking the pills. He needed to teach him how to braid the padawan braid. He needed to get them some food for the cabinets. He needed to…

“Are you hungry?” Obi-Wan rasped. His hair felt disgusting.

Anakin’s head snapped up, eyes widening. He scrambled off the rug, brushing a suspicious amount of dirt off his knees. “Yeah! I’ll make us that green thing!”

He shouldn’t let the nine year old work the stove. But Obi-Wan let him anyway, as he managed to somehow dump water in the kettle and place it on the stove, standing beside Anakin and waiting for it to whistle.

I must be doing very well, Obi-Wan thought hysterically, as he stared at the old-fashioned durasteel kettle that Qui-gon had favored. He was releasing his emotions into the Force with perfection. He wasn’t feeling anything at all. He wasn’t thinking about Qui-gon. He wasn’t thinking about anything at all. His mind was clear and empty, and he was perfectly at peace.

Obi-Wan tried to pour his tea, but he just couldn’t move. He stood and stared at the kettle for so long that Anakin eventually walked in and, straining on his tiptoes, sloshed the steaming water into the plastic white cup.

***

On day seven, Obi-Wan managed to wrangle both himself and Anakin into some semblance of hygiene and clean clothes. Anakin needed a lot of help, which clearly embarrassed him, but Obi-Wan was too dead inside to be frustrated about it.

He ended up tying his obi for him, as Anakin wriggled and tried to turn around to see it on the back. He’d have to show him how to do it himself later, but that was for later.

“Why do I have to wear this?” Anakin whined. “It’s so heavy.”

“I’ll see if I can requisition you an outfit with less layers,” Obi-Wan said. A lighter outfit wouldn’t cut it, as Anakin had ramped up the temperature controls in their quarters a week ago and the rooms haven’t dipped below boiling ever since. “Hold still. Hold - hold still, please.”

“What does requisition mean?”

Anakin held still eventually. He managed to untie the obi in the first ten minutes, but Obi-Wan really couldn’t bring himself to care too much. Then they had to worry about brushing their teeth, and Obi-Wan had to teach him how to do that, and why was this so hard, why was everything so hard -

But when Obi-Wan eventually got them both out the door, he found no relief.The Temple felt different. Obi-Wan didn’t know how; just that it did. It was identical in every worldly way, yet mismatched in the Force. As if it was a different Temple, a pale echo from another dimension, that was the home of a different Obi-Wan. Or maybe Obi-Wan was different: maybe his Force signature was so warped and polluted that he tainted everywhere he went.

They were all parts of the great whole of the Force. The Force was composed of every Jedi, every sentient being and eddy of wind. There were tens of thousands of Jedi in this Temple - how could the death of one man change it so thoroughly? Or had it just changed Obi-Wan?

Somewhat suspiciously, Anakin seemed to know the way out of the dormitories and into the main thoroughfare of the building. Obi-Wan kept a death grip on his little hand the entire time, slowing his steps so Anakin could keep up without having to jog. It didn’t stop him from trying to run forward every few steps, only for Obi-Wan to gently tug him back.

“You weren’t supposed to run around the Temple by yourself,” Obi-Wan said flatly. Anakin grinned sheepishly, in what Obi-Wan was already beginning to recognize as his ‘Busted!’ face.

“Why not?”

“You could have gotten lost.”

“I did get lost,” Anakin said proudly. “But then I found a secret service tunnel for the droids and I crawled through it and I found a server room and -” He stopped abruptly. “But that was way after the power outage yesterday. That I had nothing to do with.”

Obi-Wan...should probably care about this.

He didn’t. He was too busy releasing his emotions into the Force, and returning his dark thoughts to the Force, and maintaining complete control over his body and spirit. There was no room in that for caring about Anakin, maybe, destroying the Temple.

Wasn’t he a teacher? Shouldn’t he be teaching?

“First rule of being a Jedi,” Obi-Wan said, exhausted, “learn to lie.”

There. That was a lesson. Qui-gon had said the same thing to him when he was fourteen. Obi-Wan was doing great at this. Anakin beamed and made a weird motion with his hand, clenching it into a fist and sticking his thumb out. Obi-Wan stared blankly at him until he put his hand down.

Maybe it was because Obi-Wan was releasing all of his feelings and thoughts into the Force so well, but he couldn’t help but feel a constant prickling at the back of his neck. It felt like everybody was looking at them. A group of gossiping knights downright stopped talking when they saw Obi-Wan and Anakin approaching, and they broke out into whispers when they left. Padawans and initiates openly stared. Masters were too polite to stare, but their interest clearly peaked in the Force.

By the time they got to the quartermaster’s and slid in line, Anakin was practically hiding behind Obi-Wan. Anakin had likely gone his entire life without anybody noticing him, blending into the background. Obi-Wan had learned almost a decade ago that it was a useful survival tactic for slaves. Although how he had ever done it, Obi-Wan would never know. The boy was a sun in the Force. Blinding and burnt, as broiling as the temperature he kept their quarters at.

“Oh my. Padawan Kenobi, is that you?” Meela, the Quartermaster’s knight assistant, stopped and stared at both of them. She was carrying a large box of fabrics, and all of the other Jedi waiting in line stopped talking to crane their heads and stare too. “Oh! It’s knight now, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, before coughing. He hadn’t realized his voice was so hoarse - he hadn’t spoken to anybody but a nine year old in a week. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Meela.”

“Of course,” Meela said quickly. She was looking openly at Anakin, who was pointedly looking at Obi-Wan’s belt. “And you must be Anakin Skywalker! I had no idea you were so young. Is he even old enough to be a padawan, Knight Kenobi?”

“We determined that the creche wasn’t the best place for him.” Obi-Wan quickly grabbed his datapad, brought up the catalogue of items to requisition, and shoved it Anakin. “Pick out what we’re going to get. I’m certain you must be very busy, Knight Meela, so -”

“My, Padawan Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan refrained from gritting his teeth, before rotating on his heel. He stuck his hands in his sleeves, bowing to the aged Togrutan Jedi behind him. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Master Hashi.”

“My condolences for your master’s death,” Master Hashi said sympathetically. His watery old blue eyes were large and perfectly pitying. “It must be so difficult for you. And taking on a padawan so soon after your knighthood, as well.”

“He’s with the Force now,” Obi-Wan said. Smiling. He was smiling. Turn it down. Just a gentle smile. Remember Rishi. “But I appreciate your condolences.”

As it turns out, half the line just needed to express condolences for Master Jinn’s death, how sad, how tragic, how avoidable. He was so young. Obi-Wan was practically sweating by the time they got to the quartermaster’s desk, at which point he was promptly told that he was missing three forms.

Obi-Wan stood in front of the quartermaster’s desk, gripping Anakin’s hand in his, trying not to unwind. “But I filled out the application on the portal -”

“Yes, but you need your knight’s identification code,” the Quartermaster said briskly. “You input your padawan code.”

“How do I find out my knight’s identification code?”

“It should be on your identification card, son.”

“I was only knighted a week ago.” They were staring. They were all staring - “They haven’t issued me a card yet.”

“I’ll refer you to my assistant, Knight Kenobi.”

Anakin tugged on Obi-Wan’s sleeve. “Are we not getting my new clothing?”

A horrible tremor rose in Obi-Wan’s chest: a choking, sinking feeling. It crawled up his throat, making his trachea burn and his head pound. It felt like a balloon expanding, splintering his chest cavity and threatening to crack him apart.

Everybody was watching. They could not see it. Think about Rishi. Do not let them see it.

After fifteen humiliating minutes sitting at a sympathetic Meela’s desk, Obi-Wan finally managed to secure them some clothes. Anakin also received the standard pack of Jedi personal items, including his own toiletries and datapad. They secured an identification code for Anakin and input him into the database, and gave him his own lanyard and set of cards. Older Jedi tended to keep them in a hidden pocket in their robes, but for obvious reasons they affixed them to the neck of younger children.

But, without the identification code and five hundred more hoops, Obi-Wan couldn’t request a new living quarters and new furniture. He thanked Meela for her time anyway, stopped Anakin from attempting to requisition a B900-A40 droid with HyperFlex specs, and escaped something as simple as the Quartermaster’s trying to avoid rattling apart.

Obi-Wan only exhaled when they were outside, looking at his datapad and marking off the first line. The to-do list scrolled down the screen, and onto another page. Anakin was already shifting from foot to foot, bored.

“One down,” Obi-Wan said. “Three more.”

“Do we have to?” Anakin whined. “Why were the other Jedi so mean?”

Obi-Wan stopped short. He looked down at Anakin, who was fiddling with his obi again. “Stop messing with that. And they weren’t being mean, Anakin, they were just concerned.”

But Anakin just wrinkled his nose. “They were being mean. They were making you feel bad.”

How had he even - “If you keep quiet through the errands, you can have some fruit for lunch at the commissary.”

“Wizard!”

****

It quickly became obvious that nobody approved of Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Whispers followed them everywhere. Masters, old friends of Qui-gon, subtly disapproved of his choices. Which was nothing new - Obi-Wan had silently suffered almost everybody in the Temple disapproving of Qui-gon to him for years - but somehow it made Obi-Wan want to tear his hair out. The knights - the other knights - expressed incredulity that somebody knighted that morning received a padawan that afternoon. The padawans refused to even talk to Anakin, and he very quickly stopped trying.

Obi-Wan’s own friends...he did not have many. He was never in the Temple long enough to significantly interact or make connections with any other padawans or knights. He was never home for longer than a few weeks, and if he was planetside for longer than a month then it was because Qui-gon was recuperating from getting blown up when Obi-Wan hijacked a pirate ship and crash landed it on a small moon.

He used to have friends. Bant and Garen and Reeft and Siri...but a small and horrible part of Obi-Wan hated talking to them. A conversation with them always felt like they were trying to communicate with an Obi-Wan who hadn’t existed for a very long time, crying out over an impassable canyon. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan had begun resenting people who saw through him.

Anakin was a stubborn and implacable kid, but he was very perceptive. He clung tighter and tighter to Obi-Wan’s robes the further they walked into the temple, and eventually Obi-Wan had to disentangle him and give him a quick talk about appropriate behavior. It was his tenth talk to Anakin about appropriate behavior - about everything from using utensils to washing his hair - but this was the first time he seemed to understand why.

“So they don’t like you if you don’t do all the dumb stuff they do?”

“It’s not dumb,” Obi-Wan hissed. “And keep your voice down, this is a library.”

Judging from Anakin’s impressed gawking, this was his first time in a library. He clearly didn’t understand why they were supposed to be quiet either, and Obi-Wan was beginning to understand that Anakin refused to do anything unless you gave him a reason.

Obi-Wan carefully placed him in a small chair in the children’s section, in front of a brightly colored plastic table. Some other initiates were sitting around coloring, or working their way through children’s books. Anakin squinted up at him judgmentally as Obi-Wan frantically grabbed the clunky and friendly library datapad and scrolled through the catalogue until he found a likely suspect. Bugs of Rainforest Planets, light on the words, perfect.

“Just stay here until I come back,” Obi-Wan whispered, after a hurried explanation of why they were quiet in libraries. “Don’t leave this chair. Please.”

“I want more fruit,” Anakin warned.

“You will have more fruit. Now please don’t move.”

This was not how you Jedi masters taught padawans. This was not how it was supposed to work. Obi-Wan was not doing this right. He was doing this terribly. And everybody knew, and everybody was judging him.

The children’s librarian was a kind, plump older Twi’lek with long silver lekku down to her waist. Madame Hallan had been a personal favorite of Obi-Wan’s when he was a youngling, and he knew that she still had a soft spot for him. She was probably the only librarian who didn’t explicitly distrust him.

He easily kidnapped her for a meeting - or, maybe, she took one look at his face and kidnapped him - and she shepherded him into her office. He had never been inside, and Obi-Wan felt weirdly on the other end of the fence of his childhood. It was bright and cheerful and had datapads scattered everywhere with tax forms.

“I understand you have a new padawan,” Madame Hallan said kindly. “I saw him reading. He seems like a wonderful boy.”

She and half the temple understood that he had a new padawan. “I need your help,” Obi-Wan said, excruciatingly impolitely. Since when was Obi-Wan impolite? Since when was he lost? “It’s Anakin - I need to enroll him for lessons and I need some introductory literature for him and -”

“Dear, you’ll want to talk to Master Ravenholme for that.” Master Ravenholme was the Master of Education, and personal blight of many. “He’ll likely ask Anakin to take a placement test to determine which classes he joins.”

“Anakin can’t take a placement test,” Obi-Wan said. “He can’t read.”

To Madame Hallan’s credit, and raising a lot of questions about what exactly the other Jedi knew about Anakin, she accepted the information with a thoughtful look and a nod. “Does he know his letters and some words, or is it total illiteracy?”

Obi-Wan scrubbed his face. He was perched in the uncomfortable metal chair across from her desk, elbows propped on his knees. “It’s sporadic. He’s not totally illiterate, and I think he can read mechanical instruction manuals and labels and signs and that sort of thing...if it has to do with starfighters, he can write the instruction manual...I don’t know, I haven’t checked, but I can’t send him to class like this…”

“Calm yourself, Obi-Wan. Release that tension into the Force. Let’s take this one step at a time,” Madame Hallan said firmly, as Obi-Wan carefully breathed. “I will schedule a reading and writing assessment appointment for Anakin for an assessment. Knight Fu and Knight Kili are available to administer personal tutoring until we get him up to speed.” Fu and Kili were two teachers in the special education department, which was somewhat lean for children over the age of ten or so. Most of the ‘delayed’ children were quickly assigned to the Jedi Corp. Obi-Wan was highly educated on this, and shamefully bitter. “Now, doesn’t that sound like a plan?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Madame Hallen typed something out on her computer, making Obi-Wan’s datapad ping. “I’ve sent you a few of the handbooks that we give new knights and first-time teachers. Hopefully they’ll be of some use to you.” She smiled reassuringly at him, oozing serenity. “I think you will make a wonderful teacher, Obi-Wan. Our Temple’s never seen a young Jedi as dedicated and hardworking as you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And I’m certain that once you and Anakin get settled in, no matter where he came from, he will make an excellent student. We’re all Jedi here, after all.”

Betting was not Jedi-like behavior, despite the fact that Obi-Wan was a world-class betting champion on three Outer Rim worlds (there had been a diamond heist), but Obi-Wan would bet five hundred credits right now that Anakin was not in the chair where he had left him.

In the end, Obi-Wan was pleasantly surprised. Anakin, obviously, was not in the chair where Obi-Wan had left him, but he was within easy searching distance and hadn’t destroyed any droids yet. Instead, he had just meandered to the large picture encyclopedia propped up on a wooden stand, flipping through the flimsi with wide eyes.

Obi-Wan stood next to him, unable to smile but amused all the same. “Do you know what that is?”

Anakin nodded fervently. “It’s an encyclopedia! The padawan guy said it has pictures of every smart species in the galaxy.”

There were, of course, digital databases for these things, but kids loved flipping through things. “Sentient species. Did you learn anything?”

“Yeah!” Anakin lingered on a picture of a Togruta before flipping further at light speed. “The padawan guy said that Qui-gon was a ‘rogue Jedi’ and that he taught you how to do crime and conquer planets and backflip and stuff.”

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose. Hard. “Please don’t listen to Temple gossip, Anakin. It’ll jump down Coruscant while the truth takes an airlift.”

“But you can do backflips, I saw it.” Anakin turned to look at him - eyes wide, unjudging. “What does ‘rogue Jedi’ mean?”

What did it mean? Obi-Wan had spent half his life wondering. “It means that Qui-gon and I had a lot of adventures,” Obi-Wan said tactfully. “My training was somewhat unconventional in comparison with many other Jedi.”

But Anakin just beamed. “That’s so cool! Is my training going to be uncon - unconvectional?”

“Unconventional.” Obi-Wan sighed. “And at this point, I’m afraid so.”

Was Anakin going to resent him for this once he grew older? He must. Anakin would never be a real Jedi, a proper one. Just like Obi-Wan wasn’t. And Obi-Wan had spent almost a decade now frantically, fervently, desperately trying. He had done everything: mastered the art of saber-fighting, excelled in as many topics as he could. He was an expert in diplomacy, politics, ecology, and tactics. Everybody who met Obi-Wan found him charming, graceful, and handsome - and nobody who ever met Obi-Wan liked him. He topped his classes, was better at saberplay than most knights, and had personally saved the lives of three princesses and a memorable duchess, and he couldn’t figure out how to be a Jedi.

Obi-Wan couldn’t teach what he didn’t have. And he would never be able to give -

“Cool! I want to backflip and conquer planets too.” Anakin grinned up at him, yellow teeth flashing in the soft library lights. “I already know how to do crime, I’m really good at it!”

“Jedi have diplomatic immunity, so technically I’ve never done a crime,” Obi-Wan said, somewhat testily.

“What’s diplomatic immunity?”

“Lesson number two, padawan, is that it means we can do whatever we want so long as we can justify it in the mission report.”

“Wizard!”

Maybe Obi-Wan should just never repeat anything Qui-gon had ever said to him. Ever.

In a roundabout act of bribery, Obi-Wan finally led Anakin towards the cafeteria. It wasn’t lunchtime, but few Jedi strictly followed the guidelines of breakfast, lunchtime, and dinnertime. This was mostly because the creche and Initiates did, and nobody wanted to be in the cafeteria while children were everywhere. Obi-Wan was somewhat infamous in certain circles for braving the cafeteria at 0500 hours, when the space was completely overtaken by retired and venerated Masters sipping tea and playing intense grudge matches of shogi. Obi-Wan had been forced into the matter by his habit of waking up at 0430, but the shogi skills he learned had once settled a trade negotiation between two tribal groups with an ancestral grudge on a Mid-Rim planet, so he had no regrets.

Anakin was practically crushing his hand in excitement. His head whipped around everywhere, eyes wide and drinking in the sublimely banal and boring sight. There was the salad bar, there was the meat bar, there was the drink fountain...but to Anakin, it was the most amazing thing on Coruscant. It almost made Obi-Wan smile. When was the last time he had that expression on his face? Even the beautiful spires of Naboo were commonplace to him.

“And they just -”

“Yes, they just give you the food.” Obi-Wan stopped in the center of the crowded thoroughfare - where, thankfully, everybody was far too focused on their meal or their friends to care about the Temple’s newest spectacle. “I’m sorry, Anakin. What do you...eat, again?”

Anakin suffered this atrocious act of caretaking patiently. What had he been eating until now? Just the self-stable noodles? Had he been handling boiling water?! “At home we ate jinjaraak and ekijun. People with money had fruit and stuff.” He looked around hopefully. “And they just give you fruit -”

“Right,” Obi-Wan said. He struggled to remember the food Shmi had served them. It had been mostly gruel. Obi-Wan had been around the block enough to see that she had been an adept cook of terrible ingredients. “Could you give me an idea of what those are?”

“Uh…” Anakin made little slapping motions with his hands. “Jinjaraak is from clay and lard and spices. I help Mom make little cakes. Like this, see?” At Obi-Wan’s dubious expression, he quickly clarified, “From the good clay. Near the dried up rivers. Not the bad clay. That stuff makes you sick. O’la’rek ate some of that and she got super sick and she barfed up blue -”

“Let’s get you some fruit,” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin got as much fruit as he wanted. Obi-Wan was too busy thinking about what ‘good clay’ could possibly mean to stop him. He could take the extra back to their quarters, anyway.

There was a line for medical diets, and Obi-Wan eventually shuffled an ecstatic fruit-chomping Anakin into that line. He had to present the script the Halls of Healing gave him to the friendly yet belaboured Padawan working the booth that day, and waited patiently as the Padawan squinted at it and ran off to go get his supervisor. Anakin was in Rylothian Heaven, complete with the trees of plenty.

Eventually the supervisor shuffled out, and when Obi-Wan recognized Master Law he bowed. The gruff Patitite squinted at Obi-Wan, then down at the effervescent Anakin with jogan juice staining his sleeve. It was a good thing Obi-Wan thought ahead and ordered extra robes.

“Kenobi,” Master Law finally said, with an air of crisp memory. “Iron deficiency.”

“Yes, Master.” Please don’t remind him. “I’m here with a prescription for my -”

“And the Vitamin D deficiency. And malnutrition?” Master Law squinted further at Obi-Wan, as if half-convinced that he couldn’t possibly be remembering correctly. “I had you eating Lo’rok paste for a month.”

“Yes, Master. After I was stationed on Neskar.”

“How the blazes was a Padawan stationed on -” Master Law cut himself off abruptly, staring down at Anakin instead. He looked him up and down with sharp eyes, seemingly picking out a dozen things that Obi-Wan just couldn’t see. “I’ll get you the nutrient shakes. See that he has one with every meal, three meals a day. I’m prescribing extra vitamin gummies, he’s a bit yellow. Those dietician hacks at the Halls of Healing don’t know anything about real food.”

Obi-Wan really didn’t want to get in the middle of that, so he just nodded. But Anakin blinked up at the man, flecks of seeds caught on the corner of his mouth. “What’s a gummy?”

“A very sweet, tasty candy,” Master Law said gravely. “Which young Padawans only receive when they are very brave.”

Anakin brightened. “What’s candy?”

“The best food in the galaxy.” Master Law’s stern countenance split into a sharp smile. “Seems like that’s just what the doctor ordered. If you’ve never had any, then that means I have to prescribe you a double dose.”

Anakin grinned to match, bright and wide, with yellow teeth and crinkled eyes. “That means I’m brave! I’m super brave! Padme said so, and you said so, so it’s like I’m extra brave!”

For some reason that he just couldn’t parse, Obi-Wan found himself anxiously saying, “I think you’re brave too, Anakin.”

“Triple brave!”

The cafeteria was quickly proving to be Anakin’s favorite place in the Temple. Obi-Wan was reasonably certain that this was a good thing, because it made Anakin happy and happiness was good. That was a reliable fact of the universe: when happiness was scarce, sweet food could usually supply it. Sometimes you took what you could get.

Obi-Wan made an uncharacteristic move and placed a great deal of sugar on his oatmeal. Dumping sugar on oatmeal was crazy. This was probably what going insane felt like. Obi-Wan felt like a criminal.

“You’re very boring, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said judgmentally.

“I’m afraid so,” the ten time war veteran agreed.

It could be worse. Nobody was around to see his shame but Anakin, and the small child wouldn't squeal. All he had to do was ply Anakin with nutrition shakes and fruit, take him back to their quarters, not leave their quarters again for another two weeks in order to recover from this experience, and -

“Obi-Wan! Goodness, Obi-Wan!”

Both Obi-Wan and Anakin jumped a foot in the air, Anakin fighting to keep his food balanced on his child-sized tray. But Obi-Wan recognized the voice, the smooth familiarity soothing his panicking heart and calming down his padawan by connection.

Despite the fact that the voice was the last person he wanted to see.

Bant didn’t run, because she was a respectable Knight, but she did speedwalk in a dignified waddle towards Obi-Wan and Anakin. Anakin subtly slid closer to Obi-Wan, which he should really discourage.

“Obi-Wan! Oh, goodness, you - you jerk, you big jerk!” Bant wrung her flippers, jowls shaking with the clear uge to wrap up Obi-Wan in her patented tight hug and foiled only by the tray that Obi-Wan was holding in front of him like a shield. “You’re an absolute bantha’s - oh!”

She had just noticed Anakin, who held his tray tightly. He was frowning at Bant, and Obi-Wan could feel a twinge of childish bad emotion across their still nascent bond. Wait. What bond?

Bant was oblivious, or put on a good show of it. “You must be Padawan Skywalker,” she said warmly. She bent down a little, and Obi-Wan was struck by nostalgia for her glimmering eyes and bright smile. Bant loved kids. Obi-Wan never had. “It’s so good to meet you! Have you been taking care of your silly master for me?”

Anakin pursed his lips judgmentally. “My teacher’s not silly,” Anakin said, a bit loudly. “He’s great and smart and does backflips. It’s not his fault he’s a jerk!”

Never mind. Obi-Wan was never taking Anakin out in public again. He carefully destroyed the urge to wince, settling for smiling weakly at Anakin. Bant looked a little taken back - shocked by the idea that Anakin could have taken her friendly teasing seriously. Or maybe that he would openly call Obi-Wan a jerk. Obi-Wan wasn’t going to contest it. It was fair.

“Bant’s my best friend, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, with as much warmth as he could muster. His smile was looking more pathetic than anything, so he dropped it. “She knows how good my backflips are.”

“The best in the Temple!” Bant immediately swore up and down. “I’m awfully sorry, Anakin. I think your master’s the coolest guy here. Come on, why don’t you two come eat lunch with me and the rest of Obi-Wan’s friends? We’ve all been dying to meet the newest member of the family!”

A stone sank in Obi-Wan’s gut. He looked over the crowd, effortlessly picking out the familiar table in the back center. Sure enough, he saw the telltale gawks of Siri and Quinlan.

Joy. The two people he wanted to talk to the least. Those two ate Obi-Wan for breakfast on a good day. They would devour him now. They could smell weakness on him. He couldn’t get anything past them. They would take one look at him and know, just know -

“Obi-Wan has friends?” Anakin asked dubiously. “But he just stays in his room all day.” Went tactfully unsaid: and nobody likes him.

Somehow, the emotional obstacle course his friends were going to put him through was more appealing than the cold judgement of the nine year old. “I have plenty of friends,” Obi-Wan lied through his teeth. “Let’s go say hi.”

It felt like walking to the guillotine. Actually, Obi-Wan had walked to a guillotine before, and this was - no, it wasn’t worse. Hadn’t he done it twice? The first time was stressful, because he wasn’t sure if Qui-Gon had seduced the prison guard yet. The second time was fine, since he had hidden his lightsaber in the loose floorboard under the guillotine before he set up his own capture. So - better than the first time, worse than the second time.

Bizarrely, Siri and Quinlan grinned when they saw them. Obi-Wan was actively fighting the urge to hide behind the nine year old. The nine year old who he couldn’t possibly have formed a training bond with - he had been his padawan all of a week, it was impossible - but who had undoubtedly sensed his anxiety anyway.

“Obi-Wan, I can’t fucking believe it,” Quinlan shouted, far too loudly. He and Bant’s trays were empty, while the slow eater Siri’s bowl of grains were half-eaten. They had been there for a while, probably hours, talking about life. He had always left after thirty minutes. He had stuff to do. “I must have left you ten damn voicemails -”

“You son of a varnaak.” Siri had a death grip on her spoon, wielding it like a lightsaber. “I’m strangling you with your intestine. Not inviting me to your own knighting -”

“If you’re going to be mean, we’re leaving!” Anakin interrupted, voice high and reedy. “I already said so! I will stomp your feet!”

“You’re not allowed to stomp their feet, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, exhausted beyond measure. “Hello, all. Save the interrogation for after we’ve eaten, please.”

And maybe it was the sheer power of Anakin and his mighty feet, but his friends quieted enough for Obi-Wan to shove sugary oats into his mouth and for Anakin to polish off his fruit before starting in on his nutrient shake. Obi-Wan had to stop and take a napkin and wipe the seeds off the corner of his mouth, and help him to insert the straw in the protein shake, but the act of sucking on a straw amused Anakin and he didn’t hate the taste. There were friendly animal species on the cup. Special nutrient shake for chronically malnourished children - now with bright colors!

His friends just watched them, without even food to make the environment faux-casual. Their dark eyes seemed to follow him, and Obi-Wan felt his skin crawl. He didn’t want to deal with this. He could barely deal with Quinlan on a good day, much less...today. Any day, lately.

Finally, his grace period seemed to tick down to zero, and Quinlan broke the ice with a fishing spear and an excess of exuberance. “Is this the famous little guy we’ve heard so much about? I hear you’re a good pilot, kid!”

And, just like that, Quinlan was Anakin’s favorite person on Coruscant. “I’m the best pilot,” Anakin asserted arrogantly. Obi-Wan mentally noted the tendency for arrogance and pride down in the ‘Goal Setting!’ part of his brain that was half-heartedly drafting a training curriculum. “I can blow up anything and anyone.”

“Sounds like Quinlan,” Siri snickered. Unlike Bant, she was terrified of children, but she hid it well. “He and your master are Joballian twins that way. Those two could start a fire in deep space.”

“So who are you people?” Anakin asked. Obi-Wan put ‘unbelievably blunt’ in his mental training curriculum. “Are you really Obi-Wan’s friends? He doesn’t like you.”

“I like them very much,” Obi-Wan said rotely. Quinlan pantomimed a shot to the heart.

But Bant just smiled down at Anakin, unflappable. “You’re a padawan, young one. You should call Obi-Wan your master. It’s good to be polite.”

“Why should I have to do that?” Anakin’s voice tinged a little louder, and at a pointed look from Obi-Wan he toned it down. Siri’s eyebrows rose. “He’s my teacher, not a master of no one.”

Bant winced a bit, and all three of them rippled discomfort in the Force. So they knew, even though it wasn’t totally public knowledge. Quinlan had undoubtedly used his ridiculous clearance as a Shadow to access the Naboo mission records and spilled the details to them. Keeping it professional, as always.

“Master means something very different to Jedi,” Bant said gently. “It’s a special relationship between two people. Every Jedi teaches and learns from each other, but your master is the person who guides you and makes sure you go to bed on time. It’s just the same word for a very different thing than you’re used to.”

“What do you mean by that?” Anakin gnawed on his straw suspiciously. “I thought Obi-Wan was the one who taught me.”

Quinlan, who had far more experience with the wider world than Siri and Bant, caught on first. He propped his elbows on the table, and Obi-Wan saw him visibly struggle for the ‘wise teacher’ tone before giving up. “The Jedi have different relationships than you’re used to, kid. Who took care of you and watched you all day back home?”

This was heading into dangerous territory, and Obi-Wan frowned dangerously at Quinlan, but Anakin just hummed. “Mom took care of me and we moved around together. But Old Lady Hun watches me and the other kids in the gathering space when Mom’s busy. And when Jipol was sick, Mom and I took care of her two daughters. And Old Man Wa taught me how to fix things. And -”

“Right. So the Jedi are like that. Instead of a very small number of people raising kids, every adult raises every kid. So, for example, any Jedi would tell you to stop running in the halls or stop you from misbehaving -”

“And every Jedi did, with this one,” Siri added.

“ - but any Knight or Master would help you with your homework, too,” Quinlan finished, elbowing Siri. “We all help each other here. We share food, stuff, school, and teachings. That’s why we practice nonattachment - everything’s everybody’s, not just yours. Make sense?”

Anakin’s brow was furrowed. He paid close attention to everything - chewing everything over again and again until it made sense. Obi-Wan shoveled oatmeal in his mouth, glad Quinlan was doing this. “Why does nonattachment mean you don’t get moms or dads?”

Dangerous territory. Bant opened her mouth to say something soothing, but Quinlan beat her to the punch. “Well, to Jedi, we think the idea of just putting two or three people in charge of kids is pretty crazy. Kids are loud and bouncy. One or two people would get totally stressed out and make mistakes. And imagine just a few people teaching you about life. They could believe all this crazy stuff, and then so would you.”

“And what if the parent’s being a total jerk?” Siri pointed out. “Then the kid’s stuck with that. But when there’s other people around, they can stop and tell the parent that they’re being a total jerk. Then they have to cut it out.”

Anakin narrowed his eyes. “So nobody beats their kids here because the other Jedi would get mad?”

Awkward silence loomed. Finally, Quinlan said, “Yeah, totally. Anyway, that’s why our way rocks and makes sense. Boom. Teaching moment.” Quinlan slapped the table in victory. “We are so good at this. We’re going to be the greatest teachers ever, Anakin. Forget lame old Obi-Wan, he’s going to lead you down the path of boring. Stick with Knight Vos, I’m gonna lead you down the path that rocks.”

At Anakin’s deeply confused expression, Bant put a hand on his back. But when she spoke she spoke to Obi-Wan, gleaming eyes boring into his. “We’re Obi-Wan’s best friends. We’re going to be here for you almost as much as Obi-Wan is. None of us have padawans yet, so we’re all really excited to help you! Did you know I’m a doctor?”

Anakin perked up. He respected doctors highly - apparently it was a very prestigious position on Tatooine. “Wow! Obi-Wan’s friends with a doctor?”

“And I’m a superspy action hero, kid!” Quinlan flexed, tossing his dreads. “I can teach you how to hack into anything!”

“I’m a better pilot than anyone at this table.” Siri awkwardly waved her fist in the air in a pantomime of excitement. “I’ll help you...fly things. Which you can apparently already do. But I’ll teach you how to do it better.”

The idea was heady to Anakin. His eyes widened, filled with possibility and excitement. Of smiling adult faces, wanting to help. But he looked at Obi-Wan instead, fear sneaking in through the gap bored by long experience with misery. “So what does a master do, then?”

Obi-Wan smiled wanly at Anakin. Experimentally, he tried sending him as much warmth as possible. He didn’t have much to spare, but Anakin seemed to appreciate the sentiment. “I’ll protect you, Anakin. And I’d like it if you continued calling me Obi-Wan.”

And he knew that meant more to Anakin than all the rest. At least Obi-Wan won there.

Although Obi-Wan had gone his entire life despairing for Quinlan’s future padawan, he somehow handled Anakin wonderfully. Even Siri awkwardly asked a question about Anakin’s favorite kind of ship - clearly expecting an answer along the lines of ‘a big one!’ or ‘one that shoots lasers!’ - and sat through Anakin’s ten minute scientific dissertations on the difference in engine ports between Genoshian Special X100 and Genoshian Special X200.

When’s the last time Obi-Wan had a long conversation with Anakin, where they just talked about nothing? He’d been so selfish, focusing entirely on himself and not even thinking about Anakin. His friends were doing this a thousand times better than he was. They should be the one with a padawan, not him. Qui-Gon hadn’t thought he was ready for knighthood until - well, until it was convenient, but if it took him this long to be knighted he ought to be forty before he got a padawan.

In a characteristically deft maneuver, Quinlan had flagged down a friend of his - Ku Lun, a friendly face and teacher to the Initiates - and gave Anakin a real world lesson in Jedi togetherness by asking him to walk Anakin back to their quarters. Anakin shot a panicked look at Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan deeply wished to send a panicked look back, but he just nodded supportively.

“Don’t you want to ask Knight Lun about lessons?” Obi-Wan said. “You can work together to design your school.”

The concept of school, and the power to choose it, was obviously heady to Anakin, and he jumped off the bench with only a tinge of reluctance. “Come back to the room in thirty minutes or you’re fired,” Anakin told Obi-Wan gravely, yet nonsensically, before running off with Knight Lun.

It wasn’t until the sounds of Anakin’s chattering faded, then disappeared completely, that Obi-Wan turned back to his friends with a sigh. Their plot had worked. Quinlan and Siri’s perfect score in tactics - second only to his more than perfect score - had won again. He was subject to the masses, and the masses were stressed over his wellbeing.

Better make the pre-emptive strike. “Greetings, my honored friends,” Obi-Wan said dully. “My very best friends in the galaxy, whom I have not spoken to in months.”

“And whose fault is that, you asshole!” Quinlan thumped the table, making the plasteelware rattle, and cuing a withering look from Bant. “You drop out of contact. You leave on a routine diplomatic mission. You get wrapped up in an interplanetary war, obviously, because that’s how your routine missions always go. And you come back with a kid and the head of a Sith?”

“You have the situation well in hand, Quinlan. There’s nothing more I can teach you.”

“Idiot! I’m not asking for a mission report, here.” Quinlan set his mouth, as tempestuous as ever. “Are you okay?”

Was he okay?

Maybe Bant caught something on his expression, because she placed a reassuring flipper on his arm. “We’re sorry about Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan. We know how much he meant to you. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“You can’t get rid of us just because you don’t talk to us.” Siri scooped the rest of her oats in her mouth, clearly regretful that she no longer had something to hide behind. “Reeft and Garen feel the same way. You’re lucky Garen’s on a mission, or he would have staked out your door.” He would have. Garen was insane. “I know they waived the two weeks in solitude considering your circumstances, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need it. Anakin needs -”

“As his master, I have the best idea of what Anakin needs.” Obi-Wan kept his voice flat, dispassionate. He wasn’t a child anymore, not that impetuous Initiate who yelled and stomped and screamed. Obi-Wan had drowned that anger under thick layers of Jedi robe years ago. “I appreciate and understand your concern. However, I ask for faith in my abilities to handle my padawan.”

“Oh, no. Not the ‘I Am A Perfect Jedi And You Are The Irresponsible Bugs Beneath My Feet’ voice.” Siri didn’t sound amused, as she normally would be while making fun of him. What was funny about speaking properly? “Don’t shut down on us.”

“I’ve never understood where you got the impression that Jedi don’t have feelings, Obi-Wan,” Bant scolded, “but you know it’s not true. Jedi feel their feelings. They feel them and release them. This is you repressing them. They’re just going to fester and get worse if you do that.”

“Yes, Bant. I recieved top marks in Philosophy 101, same as you.” Obi-Wan picked at his sealed up, the rims of thick juice sloshing in the corners, before forcing himself to stop. He forced his hands still on the table, pressing them down hard on the linoleum. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t know what good a confession would do to all of you. Obviously I miss my master. Obviously I’m all…very sad about it.” Obi-Wan jerked his shoulders in a half-shrug, ignoring everyone’s unimpressed looks. “What good will talking about it do? I have to remain focused. In the real world, you don’t get the luxury of hermitage.”

“Luckily, you’re not in the real world.” Bant’s wry tone imparted the air quotes around ‘real world’. “You’re home. You and Anakin are safe here.” Obi-Wan snorted. “Knight Kenobi, what was that?”

Uh oh. But Siri unknowingly came to his rescue, leaning forward with as intent and sympathetic expression as she could wring from her usually severe countenance. “Don’t give me that dung, Obi-Wan. I cried for a month after Master Tahl died. You were there for me every second of it. What, are you so special that you don’t need help? Are you so much better than us that you don’t feel what every sentient feels? Your ‘better than you’ attitude doesn’t make you better than yourself.”

Bant made a warbling sound of frustration. “Siri, let’s not insult the person we are trying to help.”

“It’s not my fault he’s so - look, this is about Anakin -”

A tightly wound rope of...of something bad snapped in Obi-Wan’s gut. “You don’t think I can handle him.”

“Nobody’s saying that, brother,” Quinlan said, placating for the first time in his life, “but it’s like I was just telling the little guy, right? Nobody can do this by themselves. Cultures that try to do it are - they’re just crazy!”

“None of you think I can do this,” Obi-Wan whispered harshly, trying to keep the - the bad thing locked tight inside, incapable. It wouldn’t stop overflowing, a cup that runneth over. “Nobody in this Temple thinks I’m capable of taking care of him. They don’t think he can be a Jedi. It’s my fault. It’s because he has such a fuck-up for a master.”

Everybody around him suddenly radiated extreme alarm in the Force in unison. Was it really that unusual for him to say the words that swirled around in his head every hour of the day?

“Obi-Wan, we’re the fuck-ups. I mean, me and Siri and Garen. You and Bant are the Rylothian angels here.”

“That’s not what everybody else thinks,” Obi-Wan said lowly. “I’ve always been tainted because of Qui-Gon. Now just being around me is going to taint Anakin. Everybody knows it.”

“Tainted?” Bant asked with alarm. What was alarming? “What are you talking about -”

But Obi-Wan barrelled through her, unwilling to hear whatever sweet and placating words she had for him today. He stood up, carefully stepping off the bench and fussily fixing his robes with hands that did not shake. “We are going to prove it to them. Anakin will become a Jedi. I will make Anakin a Jedi, if it’s the last thing I do.”

He swept off, feeling a little bit dramatic, feeling as if he had expelled the smallest amount of emotion he could. That was the least he could give, portioning out bits of himself to the hungry and braying crowd.

Why did they want these pieces of him so desperately? What was valuable about these hideous parts of Obi-Wan - the fear, the insecurity, the nightmares shaking him awake each night? People like Bant and Quinlan dug and dug and dug until they found what they were looking for, as if they wanted to prove something to themselves, to him, to the Jedi.

Prove that he was inferior. Prove that he was just as wild and angry as everybody always said. Prove that his flimsy mask of ‘A Perfect Jedi’ was nothing more than a stage actor placing a pulp-mache bantha’s head mask over his face and strutting about as if he was a king. Prove what Qui-Gon had always thought of him: that any love for him could only be held at arm's length, that a kid who needed to prove himself never required support or a helping hand, that there was no such thing as ‘good enough’ when you lived in competition with ghosts and shadows.

Prove what everybody knew, and what Obi-Wan could not hide.

***

When Obi-Wan got home, Anakin was lying on the ground committing atrocities upon the ravaged corpse of a pilfered library droid.

“Please start putting down a tarp when you do that,” Obi-Wan said. “You’ve been getting oil into the carpet.” He paused a beat. “And please stop sneaking away from chaperones.”

“But I need to practice sneaking away from good guys so I can be good at sneaking away from bad guys! And it’s not like I was caught.” Anakin didn’t look up at him, absorbed in his work. “That’s Jedi lesson three, right? ‘Do whatever you want, just don’t get caught’?”

“When had - why do -” Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting the one day exposure to Qui-Gon. But..in the face of that logic, Obi-Wan was forced to concede. It was objectively true. “Yes. But make an exception for me. Just don’t get caught by others.”

“You got it! Hey, pinch this wire for me.”

So Obi-Wan lay down on his stomach across from Anakin, staring at him from over a sea of rusty machinery. His round little face, somehow still clinging onto baby fat, was smooth as only a child’s could be. It was flaky and rough from the blistering heat of twin suns, but he had ointment now. His featherly light blonde hair would darken without its sunshine bleach, and it would grow long in limp brown shags. He would look like his mother - if, apparently, there was no father to speak of.

His expression was screwed up in concentration, tongue poking out of his teeth as he carefully screwed in a bolt where it likely was not intended to go. There was something strangely beautiful about him in that moment - an intelligence at work, a powerful focus rarely applied. He glowed in the Force like a sun, overwhelming and breath-taking.

But when Obi-Wan’s breath caught, he wasn’t sure if it was the Force. Maybe it was just Anakin. Could you fall in love like this? Just by looking at somebody, just by feeling how great they could be? Stronger than Obi-Wan, more righteous than Qui-Gon? Kinder than Master Dooku, more vibrant than Grandmaster Yoda?

Could he be better? Or would Obi-Wan only make him worse?

“Do you like my friends?” Obi-Wan whispered.

“Gimmie a min’.” Anakin finished screwing the bolt, huffing at the piece. “Bad. Gotta redo...what didya say?”

“Do you like my friends?”

“Oh!” Anakin brightened. “They’re super cool and awesome Jedi! They’re just like I thought Jedi would be. Bant’s a doctor! Did you know that?”

“I did.” A pang shot through Obi-Wan’s heart. “They’d be better teachers than I. I’m sorry, Anakin. I’m sorry you’re stuck with…”

“No way! I’m sorry you’re stuck with me, Obi-Wan.” Anakin’s expression crumpled a little, although he bravely tried to keep it straight. He was already picking that up from Obi-Wan. “I’m why everybody keeps looking at us weird...it’s all my fault. All the Jedi hate us.”

“Anakin, no. The Jedi love all sentient beings.” Judging from Anakin’s expression, Obi-Wan was speaking straight bantha poodoo and acting as if the Corellian moons were made of cheese. “It’s true. They’d - they’d all help you. You don’t need to rely on me.”

Wires hissed and sparked. Anakin was quiet for a moment, stripping some wires with a deft, chubby hand and tying them together. He reached out to grab a blowtorch, but at Obi-Wan’s dangerous expression he carefully retreated his hand. It was a matter of time until he was using his lightsaber to solder metal. Incorrigible. Finally, Anakin said, “What Mr. Quinlan -”

“Knight Quinlan.”

“Knight Quinlan was talking about how you’re just there to guide me and teach me the Jedi way for a few years. And they all acted like the master and padawan thing is so special and great, but…” His face crumpled a little, overcome by an emotion he couldn’t name. “When we had to leave Mom behind...I thought that meant that you were going to be Mom now. But they aren’t going to let us. They’re going to make other people teach me because they don’t like you, and - and - and!”

Fat tears were rolling down Anakin’s cheeks, no matter how hard he scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve. Obi-Wan quickly sat up and moved closer to Anakin, wrapping him in a hug and letting Anakin press his head into Obi-Wan’s tunic. He would probably have to get this one cleaned with Anakin’s robe. He didn’t know why he was focusing on that instead of Anakin’s hitched breaths as he tried to control his tears.

“Nobody’s going to take you away from me, Anakin.” That wasn’t what he meant to say. That was far too possessive. That hadn’t come out right. But what had Obi-Wan meant to say? “We all just want what’s best for you. You might be happier with the others.” Obi-Wan faltered. “You could be a normal child here. Take lessons. Play with the other children. Learn and grow and be happy. My padawanship, Anakin...it was dangerous and isolated. That’s the kind of life I’ve always lived. I don’t want to expose you to that.”

Anakin separated from him, eyes red-rimmed but dry. “They aren’t strong! All the kids and the old people here - they’re weak! Nothing bad’s ever happened to them, so they think sad people like us are freaks. But you’re strong, Obi-Wan. I want to be strong and just like you. I’m not embarrassed to be your padawan.” He faltered a little, rubbing at his eyes. “It’s okay that you’re sad and that I had to make food for a little bit. Mom would get sad sometimes too. She couldn’t leave bed and stuff. I would take care of Mom and make her food. I don’t mind making you food. The slaves all had each other, we did, but...Mom and I took care of each other. We can take care of each other. It’s just you and me. Right?”

Obi-Wan embraced Anakin tightly, fighting to control his breathing. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t the correct way to do this. He had to be more like Qui-Gon - professional and strong and affectionate. Qui-Gon would have never let Obi-Wan cling to him like this, swearing an oath that neither of them should ever make.

Nobody was going to help them. None of them had ever forgotten how Obi-Wan had been a failure as a child, and none of them were ever going to forget where Anakin came from. No matter what they all said, their bright smiles and helping hands - none of them understood what it was like. It was just Obi-Wan and Anakin from now on.

In some strange way, it felt as if it had always been. As if Obi-Wan had only been alone, because he had not met or loved Anakin yet.

This wasn’t the kind of master Obi-Wan should be. He should be discouraging this desperation and neediness. But he couldn’t discourage it in himself, and he had no idea how to quench it in either of them.

As the Rylothians would say - if this was a sin, then hell had greater need of him than heaven.

He would put in the request for active mission duty. If Anakin grew up like he did - in the midst of adventure and hardship - then he could attain the strength he so desired. That was all Obi-Wan knew how to offer, and that was Qui-Gon’s legacy.

“It’s just you and me, Anakin,” Obi-Wan swore, and damned himself. “It’s just you and me…”

#star wars #sw #star wars fanfic #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #bant eerin #siri tachi #quinlan vos #this is the first and last star wars thing you will ever get from me #please don't ask the rationale i have secrets #i like to think that nothing bad happens in this universe #(it's not an AU but it's not NOT an AU? up to interpretation)#because Obiwan in canon is on anakin's ass about everything #and here he's just one of those single parents who's like 'ok so long as you're fed and not on fire i don't have energy to care #about anything else'#I think this was written from joking about how comedically and weirdly terrible obiwan's childhood was #and from my own personal feelings about the weird way the sw fandom understands communal childcare #and nonattachment #It Does Not Mean What You Think It Means (Because George Lucas Is A White Guy Buddhist!)#if you're wondering if the behavior by the jedi here is realistic or nomal or if it's positive or negative #I have lived in a monastery and it is the most accurate thing you will ever see in a SW fic #my writing

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autisticshadowthehedgehog · 2 years

Text

In the Darkness and Cold, with the Wind in the Trees

{ao3}

Knuckles was five when he lost everything. A five-year-old girl looked up at him now, blinking and looking over his recognizable quills, and the trademark knuckles on his wrist. She reached forward to touch them, and instinctively, Knuckles flinched back. She flinched, too, obviously realizing she’d crossed a line– which, well, that was better than what he normally got. She looked back up at his face, then, to see how upset he was. Fortunately for her, he'd been through a lot worse.

She wore ragged, clashing clothes, much like the other children in the orphanage. Whatever she could find, likely. It was winter, so everyone started pulling fabric over their fur for a little extra warmth. One of the employees there had given him a blanket, which he kept wrapped around his shoulders. He didn’t like accepting favors, but it was better than nothing. As for her, she just had a little skirt, sewn up on the side, and a jacket that was too big for her, tied with a little ribbon to keep it from falling open. He supposed it was normally a ribbon used for her head-quills, which were drooping at the moment, as if they were used to being help up by something. They spiked behind her– a hedgehog, it seemed, though not a usual one. Most hedgehogs were cooler colors, not the bright pink of the little girl in front of him. It was hard to tell, too, but it seemed like she didn’t have a back spike under that coat.

“You’re the echidna, right?” she said directly.

Knuckles appreciated people who were direct. Even if they were rude, it was better than liars. He’d never been good at figuring out when people were lying until it was too late. His father had once told him that was a virtue. After four years of being thrown from place to place, he was starting to think that was a lie as well.

He nodded, and the girl crept closer. He raised his shoulders, trying to look intimidating, but she didn’t seem to notice. She stopped just a few inches from him, looking carefully.

“If you want something from me,” he said, his voice growing tired, “Just say so.” Everyone always wanted something.

She sighed, and then said, “Okay. Yeah, I need something. But I think it’ll help you, too.”

He’d heard that before. You’re from the Knuckles clan, aren’t you? You should love fighting. Now get in there and give them a show.

He crossed his arms. “What?”

She imitated his pose, and he held back a smile. Then he jumped, as she said, “You wanna get out of here?”

“Out of where?”

“The ‘rphanage. I have a way out but I need someone who’s good at digging.” she cocked her head to the side. “The older kids say that echidnas used to be tunnelers. Is that true?”

“We did other things, too.” Knuckles muttered, still remaining stiff. She was a child, yes, but he’d been first thrown into an arena when he was barely her age, and he was still alive because he knew how to fight. He wasn’t going to make his enemies’ mistake of underestimating a child.

“Okay.” she said. “You know the hour where they let us out into the garden? Meet me by the porch, I’ll show you our way out.”

She turned and left, then, running back over to her bed. Knuckles watched her as she crawled up and under the sheets, two other children her age grumbling as she did, telling her not to hog the blankets. He curled up in the corner, looking to the other beds full of children in the room. He preferred to sleep on the floor rather than with strangers. Though he doubted he would sleep much tonight. He had to be on guard a lot of the time, he was used to sleeping as little as possible.

A few hours later, he noticed the little pink hedgehog was still awake as well. He wondered if that was normal for her, too.

---

There was an hour in the afternoon where sunlight was optimal, and the employees let the children into the yard, under supervision. The last two days he’d been there, Knuckles had sat on the steps, pulling his blanket around him; he’d wrapped it around his chest, the way he remembered his father wrapping his poncho. His eyes went past the rushing children and up to the walls; they were made of thick stone, several feet higher than the tallest mobian could reach, arched just slightly. Even if he was able to climb it, that arch would make getting over the top and to the other side. Not to mention that a fall would greatly injure him– and, most importantly, he would be spotted immediately, and the adults here did not take kindly to disobedience. Most adults he’d been around didn’t.

He sat on the steps now, until he saw the pink hedgehog. She passed him, gesturing her hand for him to follow, and then moved to the rose bushes. He hesitated a moment, scouting the yard; the adults were in each corner, chatting to themselves or reading under a tree, while the children raced around, playing or shoving their hands into dirt or finding someone to annoy. He got to his feet, before moving to the shadows as he followed the girl. He’d been a point of interest the last several days, to his chagrin, but thankfully the children were finding new things to pick on and whisper about right now. Probably finding more fun looking for worms in the grass or chasing the flickies that happened to land in the trees.

He knelt by the bushes, glancing down at the ground. The orphanage garden wasn’t very good, the food never came in right, but the flowers seemed to grow alright. Which was funny, because they were the only things that had not been planted intentionally. The seeds would blow in on the wind, the adults complained often, but they didn’t have the energy or time to uproot them. They’d rather use the space for more food but, well, at least for now the flowers entertained the children, especially when the petals blew off in the wind and they could chase them.

The pink hedgehog had crawled inside the bush, and after a moment, Knuckles followed. She waited until she knew he was behind her, then continued on. Knuckles was glad she couldn’t see him, as he was flinching whenever the sharp thorns pushed against his quills. Don’t look weak, he reminded himself. This doesn’t even hurt that much.

Then she pushed aside some leaves, and he saw a small space, just outside of the branches’ reach. He pushed himself out, almost running into the stone wall. He shook himself, reaching to pull a thorn from his back, before looking up at the wall.

“Okay,” he said, “What is this?”

The pink hedgehog blinked at him, then crawled to the left. He followed, as she reached the back of another bush. There, she pushed aside the leaves, and he looked down to see a deep, wide hole.

“This bush is fake,” she whispered. “They haven’t noticed yet, but they’re gonna uproot the bushes once the snow comes in so they’ll find out. I need to finish this before then so I can get out.”

He moved beside her, glancing down the makeshift tunnel, before raising his brow. “Impressive. How long have you been working on this?”

“Couple weeks.” she said.

“I would have guessed a few months.”

“Hedgehogs are burrowers, too. I’m not a very good hedgehog, though, or I probably would’ve done a better job of it.”

“It’s alright.” he said. “Unlikely to collapse, which is the most important part. How close are you to the end?”

“The wall’s about a meter thick. I think I’m halfway under it.”

“I can get you nearly to the end before the hour’s up.” Knuckles nodded. “Then tomorrow we can run.”

He waved his hand, then, inviting her to follow him, as he leapt down into the tunnel.

---

While his tribe focused more on warfare than tunneling, being underground was still a deep comfort for Knuckles. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it until he was there, digging with the little hedgehog. It was much quieter underground than it was above. All sounds were a little muffled, which just made them softer, calmer. It took a second to adjust to the low light, but then it was incredibly nice. He’d always been a bit sensitive to brightness, but the dark was easy to fall into.

They worked in silence for a good long while, before the little hedgehog asked, “So. Why do you wanna leave?”

Knuckles sighed, having hoped they wouldn’t talk at all. He wasn’t a conversationalist. “Why must you know?”

“I dunno.” she shrugged. “It’s just. I heard the adults saying you were in some dangerous places before. This is kinda safe, isn’t it?”

“How about you?” he retorted.

She bit her lip. “Not safe enough.” she whispered. At least, he thought she did. He may have heard her wrong. There was a beat, before she said, “Anton said you’re looking for the Master Emerald. Is that true?”

Knuckles sighed. “Perhaps.”

To his surprise, she brightened, her eyes lighting up as she turned to him. Under the coat, her tail began to wag. “You believe in it too?” she said, relief flooding her voice.

He relaxed, just slightly, then continued to dig, patting the dirt into the wall. “Yes.” he said. “My tribe has always known it was real. It was stolen from us, and we always intended to get it back.” his voice faltered slightly. “The rest of them never completed their mission. I will not let their deaths be in vain.”

The hedgehog stared at him, stopping her dig for a moment. “You remember your family?”

“Of course.” he said. He did not want to say that there were memories already fading. She didn’t need to know that.

She blinked at him, and then said, “What was it like?”

“What was what like?”

“Having a tribe.”

He sighed, glancing away from her so she wouldn’t see his face, and he began to burrow harder, faster. “There was always someone there for you. They were like you, they could help you. Even if one was cruel, another would pull you up.” he dug even faster. He’d been about to add that they wouldn’t abandon you, but. Well.

They didn’t mean to.

They still did.

She moved up beside him, trying to help him dig, but he was, indeed, more skilled than her. So she trailed behind him, and then said, “They said I was found by the side of a road.” Her eyes glazed, as she lost herself in thought. “It was winter then, too. There were tracks all around. I remember them saying that.” she swallowed. “I remember them saying the tracks were everywhere, so it was clear people were there with me, and then left me alone.”

Knuckles paused a moment. He didn’t turn towards her, but her admission shook him slightly. Left her alone.

“I see.” he said.

“I think I remember it a little.” she sighed. “I remember looking up at a branch, with snow all over it. I knew if I hit it, the snow would fall, but it was too high up.” she blinked. “I don’t know a thing before that.”

He continued his dig, gesturing for her to join him. She seemed a bit excited by that, seeing it as encouragement to keep going, and she raced beside him, patting the dirt as she continued.

“I’ve been a lot of places,” she said, “So I know how a lot of this stuff works.”

“What stuff?”

“The ‘rphanages. When adoption days come around, you gotta be super nice and polite. Do something impressive to get attention. You probably won’t have a problem with that, you’re pretty special.”

“I noticed.”

She didn’t notice the anger beneath his voice. “But you can’t be too special. Then they won’t want you. They never want me because I look super weird. Sometimes the adults ask if I’m even a hedgehog and I’m like, ‘well, what else would I be?’ and they don’t say anything til I’m gone. But then I listen and they say some not very nice things.” she shrugged. “It’s funny. They tell us to be nice and not talk behind backs but they do the same thing and think we don’t notice.”

“I have noticed that, too.” Knuckles nodded. “My captors always said we should fight fair, but they never did anything against the ones who didn’t.”

“Captors.” the hedgehog repeated the word. She looked over to him. “Are you captured here?”

“In a way.” he said. “I dislike being forced to be anywhere. But I’m not made to fight for entertainment at the least. I’m not sleeping in a cage.”

“They put you in a cage?” she asked, horrified.

“In some of them.”

“Some of what?”

“The arenas.” he hoped she didn’t see him shake a little. “Some of them were better than others. I had a room in one that had a bed, but no windows. So I couldn’t leave. At least in the cages, I could see the sky through the bars.”

“How’d you get out?” she asked, breathless. “Of the arenas?”

“One or two were shut down.” he said, pushing a quill out of his face. “The last one I was in was, which is why I’m here. They thought it’d be better to throw me here than let me run off. I had to escape the rest. It wasn’t as simple as a tunnel.”

“Wha’s that mean?”

“The first time, I had to try thrice.” he admitted. “The first two times I failed, it... it did not end well. But the third time, they were not looking at me as the audience exited. I managed to break out of my bindings and slip into the crowd.” He cocked his head. “Another arena, I had to knock out three guards, before running through a hole in the wall. I wandered the desert for a few days following that."

“You had to fight a lotta people?”

“You could say that, yes.”

“I’ve fought people, too.”

“Hmmph.” He could tell she was trying to impress him. But he doubted she had the experience he did.

“I have.” she insisted. “I’m really good at it, too. Maybe I would be good in an arena. It could be fun.”

“It is not.” he said.

“I like it sometimes. When I’m winning. I usually win when kids in the ‘rphanages try to bully me.”

Orphanages? Plural? “You have been in more than one?”

“Loads. I keep gettin’ kicked out.”

“I was not aware you could be removed from these places.”

“Most people aren’t. You gotta blow up something more than once. The first time they call it an accident. You keep doing it and they know it’ll be a pattern and they don’t wanna deal with you.”

“Do you do this on purpose?”

“No. But if you don’t wanna stay in these places either, maybe my ‘xperience can help.”

“Perhaps. Though I do not intend to be in another prison again.”

“Right. Cause you’re finding the master emerald! Where do you think it is?”

As if he would discuss such matters with her. “It does not matter. I will find it and restore it to its rightful place.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Why do you wanna?”

“It is my duty. My destiny.”

The hedgehog mouthed the word destiny, her tail beginning to wag again. “I wish I had a destiny.” her tail stopped its wag, and her face fell. “I don’t have anything. I don’t even know who I am.”

Knuckles hesitated, stopping his dig for a moment. He thought on how long they’d been there– they would have to leave in just a little bit, or they would risk getting caught and punished. But...

“You are a very inquisitive and adventurous child.” he said carefully. “That much I have noticed.”

She was confused for a moment, then brightened and straightened up. “Is that good?”

“If you believe it is good, than it is.”

He was shocked, then, when suddenly she was on him, her arms wrapped around his chest as she pulled him into a tight hug. It lasted only a moment, before she pulled away, awkwardly shuffling her feet and adjusting her coat. He stared at her for a moment, before telling her that they should go. “Time is almost up,” he said, “But we should be able to finish tomorrow. We may be pushing time, but with the two of us, we could make it.”

She nodded, and they headed out of the tunnel.

---

When they went back into the building, the hedgehog sat beside him at dinner. They didn’t speak, but they didn’t move away from each other, either. The other children gave them strange looks, whispering or snickering to each other, and Knuckles did his best to ignore them. He had spent the last few years ignoring whispers.

The hedgehog finished her meal first, and moved to put her dishes in the sink. As she did, she looked out the window, into the front of the building, where they could see a wide street that wound between many similar, stony buildings.

Knuckles didn’t think much of her movement, but after a few minutes, as he got up to put his own dish away, he realized she was still at the window. He moved to the sink and put his plate down, before looking out. It was about as boring as it always was– a few mobians walking past, or stopping in the middle of the street to talk to each other, never sparing a glance to the orphanage behind them.

Then he looked to her, and he saw she was afraid.

Her hands gripped the edge of the sink as tight as she could. Her eyes were wide, distant, and barely blinking as she stared out the glass. He turned, trying to follow her gaze, but he only saw the same thing he did before; a dirty street and scattered strangers.

Carefully, he whispered, “Do you recognize one of them?”

She snapped out of her stupor, and quickly shook her head– a bit too quickly. She slid off the stool and to the ground, pulling her coat sleeves down. “No,” she said, “Don’t worry about it.”

---

After their meal, they had a few more supervised hours before they were sent up to bed. As they reached the room, and the children scattered to their spots, he watched them pass. He didn’t see that flash of pink.

Perhaps she was using the restroom. Or staying behind to ask something of the adults.

He didn’t hear her come in at night, though, after the candle was blown out. He slept only a little, and when he awoke he wondered if she snuck in while he was there. But then they went down the stairs, and lined up so the adults could count them, and he heard, at the end of the line, an exasperated cry, which was soon repeated in a more fearful tone.

“Where’s Amy?”

He stayed silent, as the adults counted them again, and as they made them sit in a room while they searched. He suspected that they would not let them outside while a child was missing, so he waited until the adults began to search the upstairs before slipping away from the whispering kinds and sneaking his way to the outside. Once there, he rushed to the bushes, pushed his way through, and found the tunnel.

Indeed, it was there, and it was complete. He leapt inside and ran through, and in a few minutes his head poked out on the other side of the wall. He grabbed onto the grass, pulling himself up, and staring up at the sun.

With just one person, it must have taken her hours to finish that tunnel. She must have spent most of the night on it.

He should not feel bad. She was not his responsibility. They had not even exchanged names.

Still...

He shook his head, and then picked a direction to head, and ran.

---

Knuckles had kept that blanket wrapped around his shoulders and chest the entire time he was there, though he’d trade the blanket a few towns later for some food. Little Amy eventually grew into her coat, though she had to stitch it up every now and again. They both kept running, with Knuckles running towards something, and Amy running away.

Perhaps if they had talked more, they would have noticed the same differences between them. Perhaps they would have realized they both had the same spark in their eyes, that the explosions Amy spoke of were not from chemicals but from the energy that sparked from her quills whenever she was angry, the same energy that kept Knuckles alive through arena after arena. Perhaps they would have realized Amy was found on the same island that Knuckles used to live, and that when she didn’t gel up her quills or push them up with a ribbon, they fell in the same way as his. Perhaps, if either of them had removed their coat, they would have noticed they both had the same white crescent on their chests.

But time moved on, and they forgot each other.

Until Knuckles was fifteen, and he swung his sparking fist, trying to hit the bat who’d stolen his emerald, and then there was a hammer blocking him, and he looked down into the green eyes of the little hedgehog. The eyes flashed pink as her own energy sparked up to match his, and for just a moment, they were nine and five again.

Then she pushed her hammer, throwing him back, and he found himself fighting again.

#sonic 2 spoilers #knuckles the echidna #amy rose #sonic fanfiction #sonic cinematic universe #mine #connie writes #hedgechidna siblings

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redrobbingabank · 3 years

Text

The Kids are Not Alright

Tommy was in his house when the sirens started. He’d been visiting Shroud. It was a good day. Now, cold, indescribable terror is flooding through him as he sits on the floor, head pressed between his knees. Rocking back and forth, Tommy drags in breath after breath and never registers the oxygen.

Dream escaped. Dream escaped. Holy fucking shit, Dream escaped.

Sam had promised. He’d promised that wouldn’t happen. Pandora’s Vault was the most secure place on the server, the only place Dream couldn’t get out of. He’d been so sure of it that he’d been willing to let Tommy rot inside to protect its integrity.

He should have known it wasn’t true.

He needed to get up. He couldn’t get up. He needed to run. He could hardly breathe. He had to get Tubbo and Ranboo out. He didn’t know where they were. The sirens were still screaming, screaming, screaming.

There were tears on his cheeks. “No, no no no no no no no,” Tommy murmured, finally bringing himself to look up at Shroud. The spider was unaffected, watching him from the ceiling. He focused on Shroud, and slowly, slowly, his breathing evened.

He had to get Tubbo. Dream was probably looking for him oh god Dream was probably already looking for him breathe breathe breathe, he had to get Tubbo and Ranboo and Wilbur thought Dream was good run far, far away.

He shoved himself to his feet, turned on his heel, and ran at full tilt for the tunnel to Snowchester. They had to get away this time. They had to. He couldn’t survive it again.

Las Nevadas was quiet, for a casino town. Tubbo served plenty of burgers, for sure, but today it was empty except for the inhabitants, eating lunch alone despite knowing each other for months. It looked a bit stupid to him, everyone sitting alone at a table with nothing to occupy them but their food, silence reigning.

The exception was Fundy. He sat at the bar, holding a drink Tubbo wasn’t entirely sure he was old enough to serve and ignoring his burger.

“So you’ve been here for like… what, three weeks?” he asked Tubbo. There were massive bags under his eyes. Tubbo didn’t think he’d ever seen his old colleague look so bad. Well, he guessed they were colleagues again.

“Yeah.” Tubbo shrugged and stole a fry. Quackity wasn’t there to yell at him. “You?”

“Few months.” Fundy sounded like he had to drag every word out of his mouth, slumping to prop his head up with a hand. “I don’t even know how he found me. I was living pretty far away.”

Tubbo nodded silently. He glanced over at the table in the corner, where Purpled was definitely eavesdropping. He was too tense, his head turned a little too far to be normal for someone minding their own business.

The doors slammed open so hard the glass cracked. Tubbo whipped around, half expecting DreamXD himself to enter, but it was only Quackity.

Maybe not only. Tubbo’s friend’s face was wild, a maniacal smile fixed on his mouth that reminded Tubbo of that day on the mountain with Dream. He took half a step back. Fundy, who’d flinched at the noise, was eyeing the counter like he had half a mind to jump over it to hide.

“Everyone’s in here, right?” Quackity looked around, doing a quick headcount. “Great.” A scarily gleeful laugh bubbled up. “Team meeting, everyone! Gather round, everyone!”

Fundy, Foolish, and Slime all complied pretty quickly, with varying degrees of bounciness. Purpled and Tubbo took a few moments longer, giving Quackity wary glances before slowly moving towards the center table. Tubbo pulled off his apron and left it on the counter. His hand itched to hold his sword.

Hair had come out of Quackity’s beanie, now resting only halfway on his head. He ran a hand through it, looking around at them all. “So, I don’t know if you’ve noticed––” His voice rang out, echoing off the diner’s walls “––But Dream’s escaped.”

He kept talking, but Tubbo didn’t hear, frozen and listening. His ears were always ringing, ever since the festival. It was an ever-present reminder of the explosions. But as he focused, letting himself hear all of it, the sounds separated.

There was the ringing that was always there, electric and loud. Then there was the quieter, more distant, more urgent ring of the Vault’s sirens.

Ranboo. Tommy. Michael. Snowchester.

Quackity must have been too absorbed in his rant, because he didn’t stop Tubbo as he walked, trancelike, out of the diner. The sun hit him hard. He blinked in the direction of the burger van. Empty. Ranboo usually visited Michael around this time. Snowchester it was, then.

It wasn’t hard to leave Las Nevadas behind. Tubbo had never gotten anything from it past a paycheck. It felt empty, a cooperation where L’Manberg had been a family.

His family wasn’t here. Tubbo needed to make sure they were safe

There was dust on Ranboo’s armor. It was always like that after a mining trip. He’d have to clean it soon, but at the moment he was too tired, and it was time to visit Michael.

The snow in the Arctic Commune reflected sunlight directly into his eyes as he stepped outside, but Ranboo was used to it. He was not used to the people who greeted him. Techno and Phil stood on the bridge between their houses. Techno and Phil. It had been months since Techno left, and the worry that had been accumulating broke away like a chunk of ice. Ranboo dropped the grass block he’d been messing with.

“Techno!” he called, running through the snow to reach them. His legs sank down to the shins in the drifts.

Techno turned around at the decidedly clumsy approach. He looked like he hadn’t seen the sun in weeks, but when he saw Ranboo, he grinned. “Hello,” he called back.

Ranboo dashed up the steps and stopped in front of him. “Where were you, man?” he asked, slightly out of breath.

Phil and Techno exchanged a look. “I’ve been gathering intel,” Techno said finally. “I’m gonna tell everyone about it, but we need to get Niki here so everyone can hear.”

“Oh. Alright.” Ranboo started to move back in the direction of the portal. “I’ve got some stuff I need to take care of in the SMP, so, uh…” he glanced at Phil, who knew where he was really going, and finger-gunned in the portal’s direction. “I’m gonna head out.”

“Cool. Oh, wait, Ranboo!” Techno said quickly.

“Yeah.”

“Just, uh. You’ve got problems with Dream, right?”

Instantly, Ranboo’s skin started crawling. He dragged his thoughts away from the panic room, from Mellohi, from the voice that wasn’t Dream, and the visit Sam said he made. He nodded slightly. “Yeah?”

“Right. Uh, I’m gonna need you to trust me here, dude. When you get to the SMP, someone might tell you Dream’s out of the prison.” Phil looked sharply at him. Ranboo stopped breathing, and Techno held up his hands quickly. “Woah, woah, calm down, it’s fine. He’s not actually out. They just think he is, I promise. I saw him in there myself, okay?”

Did the world feel like it was collapsing in on itself? Yes. But did Ranboo trust Techno to tell him the truth? Yes.

Ranboo backed down the stairs and picked up a grass block from beneath the snow. He held it close to his chest. “You promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die, Ranboo.” Techno looked him dead in the eye. “Dream is still in the prison.”

“Then I trust you.” Ranboo turned towards Snowchester. “I really have to go now, though.” He had to find Tubbo and Tommy and make sure they were safe. He had to tell them it wasn’t real. “See you.”

Nerves battled with determination as Ranboo started the trek through the snow, then decided it would take too long and pulled out his ender pearls. Techno would explain, but until then, he’d probably stay away from the prison. He didn’t know what the sirens would do if he heard them.

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subwaysurf45 · 3 years

Text

Winter Makes Ice (Ep.1)

Summary: you’re captured after a brawl at the Avengers building, Bucky and others must save you before Hydra makes a new Winter Soldier out of you, Bucky has given up that title.

Episode: One

Words: 3948

Warning: depiction/description of violence, kidnapping, killing, PTSD, depression.

A/N: I will be making a masterlist for this specific series!

Masterlist!

Winter Makes Ice (series masterlist)

Time: 1:36pm

Date: September 23rd, 2024

“Bucky, I swear to fucking god-” You threw the person you just knocked out onto the ground of the common room, “you have to get out of here, It’s you or this entire building!” Bucky gave you a sympathetic look as you fought off Hydra agents, your gun fired three shots behind you to another agent you sensed running up.

“But I can’t leave you!” Bucky screamed back over the fire and bullets, Hydra agents were running in from every which way. The smoke rising made it harder for him to see you and Sam, who was also there a couple seconds ago. Everyone else was trying to stop the agents from the outside or other levels. It was a complete break-in.

“Fuck all that Bucky, I love you but I can’t love you if you’re dead- Fuck!” You screamed in pure anger as you began hand to hand combat with an agent, he wasn’t good at all so it was a quick take down. “James!” you looked over to just see him standing there, his eyes were watery from the pain and smoke, “you need to fucking leave! Run!” you shouted, waving him off.

“I love you!” He yelled over, hands cupping his mouth to make sure you heard him.

“I’ll tell you I love you after this, we’ll be okay,” you looked over your shoulder to find three new agents running in, their eyes weren’t even looking at you. You looked back to find Bucky still standing there, “fucking run!” Your throat felt raw, all the screaming and fighting was taking a massive toll on you.

Bucky took off in the other direction, the fire was subsiding as he got further from you. The serum gave him lungs like no other, so running through fire and smoke was easy. With a frantic mind and tunnel vision his left and right mixed up, all Bucky was trying to find was an exit and it should’ve been easy but he’d turn back after remembering this wasn’t the right hallway. His hand was gripped tightly on his gun while the metal hand held a knife firmly, after getting his mind back he found he could throw better with his left and shoot with his right- his dominant hand is right anyway.

“Anyone on their com?” Everyone had quickly shoved theirs in during the start of the ambush; half the SHIELD agents weren’t wearing their tactical gear.

“Rogers is here,” Steve ended his sentence with a grunt.

“So is Romanoff,” Nat sounded a bit more composed but still out of breath.

“y/n is down on the main floor, she told me to run because all they’re after is me, someone needs to go down and help her,” he received a few confirmations before focusing back to the task at hand. The bright light of the afternoon sun blinded him for a second, with all the lights shutting off and the smoke it made it seem like it was night. Bucky reached up to rub his eyes to help adjust to the sun but ended up just rubbing smoke and fumes into them, “fuck!” He stumbled back against the closed door as he used his shirt to rub his eyes but that was also covered in his smoke.

Bucky reached back and grabbed a completely full water jug that was the size of his palm, Bucky could feel his heart shatter as his eyes cleared because it was you who- only a matter of hours ago -was leading a very relaxed meeting about these water bottles, ‘you need to hydrate to stay on your feet’ you had said a couple times. His mind was as clear as his eyes, the way you were screaming at him to leave, the way you stood directly between him and the Hydra agents so they had to shoot through you to get him, the way you kept looking back to him with tears in your eyes because all you wanted was for him to stay but you knew better and sent him away. The tears mixed with the water as he sprayed his face, the smoke clung to his sweat like he did to you after a nightmare. The entire Avengers building was slowly caving in on itself, he could feel his heart lurch with every new piece of the building fall on the inside, he just hoped it didn’t hit you.

He kept walking further from what he once called home, trying to get a better view of it all. He wanted to look away because he felt like all at once the building could crumble to pieces and consume you with it, there was no saving the building; and quite possibly you.

“Wh-gent-hu?” Bucky had walked too far away from the building and the coms, all of them were close to low battery because of the last mission. Bucky ran towards the building and couldn’t see anyone on the roof, but as he ran closer the clearer the coms got. “Where-agent-I can’t-what is happ-sto-!” It was three different voices screaming together at once, Bucky whipped the doors open and saw just how much the inside changed.

The walls weren’t a sophisticated grey anymore but rather charred and black, there was no roof, at all. Bucky ran into the common room to find everyone looking under fallen planks and bars of steel, he started lifting them too. Everyone was running around and screaming at eachother, everyone had a different level of injury. Steve was throwing support beams like nothing, Bucky ran over. “Who are we looking for, Steve?”

Steve just looked at Bucky with tears falling down his face, his skin was brown with dirt but his tears left trails down his skin. “Bucky, man, I’m sorry…” Steve sniffled and covered his mouth. Natasha had walked over, her hands were shaking and clutching something close to her heart.

“I think we have our answer,” Nat cried and handed Bucky the water bottles you introduced.

“Who’s-” he was cut off when Bucky flipped the bottle to check the bottom, and there in your hand writing was your name, and a little heart next to it.

Bucky felt as though his soul had just left his body, everyone was getting close to giving up the search for you. If your body would be found it would be a miracle for you to still be alive, your lungs would have been fried due to the smoke and a pillar could crush you like it was nothing. Sparks flew off of snapped electrical that could be electrocuting you at this moment, small fires still burned which could be living off our ashes, any of the pure destruction could be killing you. And yet people were giving up, by the look on Steve’s face Bucky knew he should as well.

Time: 11:45am

Date: September 23rd, 2024

“So you’re saying we have little squirt bottles, this is fucking great!” Sam laughed, he looked at the clear bottle that was shaped into a big teardrop, the kind marathon runners keep on their belt. He pulled a sharpie out of his pocket and wrote his name.

You sat next to Bucky who was still feeling the effects of the last mission, it was at a Hydra base to just get intel but even then, it was still hard. Everyone got back a day ago and decided to push the debrief for the next day because of the shared exhaustion. Bucky slept for twelve hours because of it.

“Do you like them?” you asked, referencing the bottles, you both held yours as you waited for the marker to be passed to you.

“Anything you do, I like, sweetheart.” Bucky pulled you into his side and cuddled with you for a bit, he had always found your touch was a good way to stay grounded. Your heart beat could be felt anywhere, and Bucky would always try and match it. The marker was passed to you both and you wrote your names, a little heart found its home next to the last letter of your name, Bucky could only smile wide and shake his head and he took the marker and wrote his.

You and Bucky made your way back to your shared room before cuddling up in bed, a movie was thrown on and you both watched it as your eyes started to close. Bucky was awake, he kept looking down at your head on his shoulder to leave a little kiss, he’d always let his lips linger on the top of your head so he could smell your shampoo. Normally you were clinging to him for warmth but he could feel you were radiating heat, your sweater was actually his and the covers were tucked to you and Bucky got the edge, this wasn’t new for him. You were almost asleep but still every minute or so you’d subconsciously snuggle your cheek deeper into Bucky’s shoulder, small little circles in Bucky’s shoulder as you got more comfy.

Bucky ended up falling asleep too, it was weird when he would wake and realize how vulnerable he was to be asleep with you beside him and the door unlocked, he would smile at himself and make a mental note to bring it up to his therapist that he slept soundly again. Bucky probably could’ve gone the entire night but was woken up by a hard time breathing, something was caught in his throat so his cough woke him up. Then his dry cough woke you up, right away your nose turned up at the smell.

“Smells like burnt,” you said and stood up, a couple joints popping back into place.

“Ya, that’s what it was,” Bucky nodded, he pulled his shirt over his nose.

“Wanda needs to leave Nat alone with the cooking thing, Nat doesn’t like to cook so I don’t know why Wanda keeps bugging her, right?” you turned back to Bucky, he was nodding along. “Everyone has their thing, cooking isn’t Nat’s thing but that's fine,” you sighed, “I’m gonna actually talk to Wanda about-”

Three bangs landed right on your door, you jumped back from it and Bucky stood up. Two guns were pulled out of the bedside tables, Bucky tossed one of them to you. The banging went again and it wasn’t a friendly bang, you both knew this wasn’t one of your friends. The safety of the guns were both pulled back with a ticking sound, Bucky put his clip in his gun, you like to use a revolver and it was already ready. The top hinge blew off and the door slightly fell forward, the lights were off and the emergency ones gave little light, there was smoke crawling through the cracks in the door. Bucky had made his way to the other side of the bed to you, now you were both in front of the door.

“Who do you think it is?” You whispered to him, your shoulders rubbed against his with quick breathes.

“No idea,” Bucky muttered back, his lips barely moved.

The door busted down and because you both were ready the guy didn’t stand a chance, the intruder fell back in an instant at the rapid fire from the guns, the sound would be as loud as the banging on the door. The intruder wasn’t even ready to fire, his gun flipped out of his holster and slid a tiny bit on the tile floors before stopping. The emergency lights hit the silver gun perfectly, you noticed red on it but it didn’t look like blood, there was some type of symbol or branding on it. You slowly walked closer, your bare feet not giving away you were moving in case someone was waiting before the threshold of the door.

“Bucky…” you whispered and turned to him, “you gotta get out of here,” you slowly bent down and picked up the gun, the Hydra symbol was hard to see now that it was not getting any light. Bucky’s nostrils flared as a way to hide what he was feeling, his mouth opened to try and talk this through but the sounds of coughing, guns, and screams took its place.

You both ran to the common room, everyone was there, fighting an agent. Coming from a third angle you took out some of the agents with your gun, they didn’t see it coming; neither did Nat as she pointed her gun in your direction.

“They want their intel back, go to the computers!” Steve screamed, you turned and ran.

Bucky joined the fight in the common room, he kept looking back to see you getting smaller and smaller down the hall. All he had was his gun and a knife he picked up from his dresser, both were used as more and more Hydra agents ran in and came from the ceiling that was falling apart.

You turned quickly into the room, computers and wires everywhere. Your time was spent in the training room rather than here, but you logged in mission reports on the computers. Hard drives of every mission, every person, and every thing were connected everywhere. Tons of information that could give Hydra the upperhand, there were still hard drives you had just stolen from Hydra that no one had looked into yet. This was all they wanted, but it was weird to see how many agents were coming in and not making their way to the intel room. You stood on guard with your gun out and ready, you weren’t wearing anything protective so you stood behind an old computer that was yet to be thrown out.

A man walked in, he was tall and slim. Brown hair curled down to his shoulders and his eyes were a dark green, they pierced right through you. You were about to shoot but he just put out his hand, his index finger coming up and wagging you off. “I wouldn’t do that,” he warned, his voice was like gravel.

“Why not?” You grunted, finger ready on the trigger.

He didn’t even reach for his gun, his hands out in front of him. “Because, you’d never shoot the messenger, would you?” His hands lowered but he kept them out. You slowly lowered your gun but kept your hands ready, fingers still holding the trigger. “I came on my own terms, no leader sent me,” He added and pulled a chair out.

“Out with it, I don’t need your cryptic bullshit!” your gun was raised again, “hands up!”

He raised them, “we don’t want intel.”

“What?”

“You stole our intel, that’s fine.” his nose stuffed up, “but you steal our weapon, rid him of his purpose...then we have an issue.”

“He’s not a weapon!” you knew exactly who they were talking about, “and we didn’t steal him, we saved him, we saved Bucky!” you yelled again, tears gathering in your eyes.

The man sat back on his chair, “I don’t care at this point, none of us do, you either give us our Winter Soldier or we will burn this place to the ground.” He stood to size you up, “the message has been given, shoot me if you want, I heard humans are flammable so I’d help burn this place-”

The man's brain flew out and hit the walls, blood sprayed over you and the computers. His knees folded in and the hole in his head slammed against the floor, you should have let him suffer but he probably was working for Hydra, and that’s suffering everyday. The man’s skin whitened in a matter of seconds, all the blood rushing out of that one spot was getting near the electrical, so you ran back to the common room.

Bucky was there, “most of them went to the roof, we got it down here!” He screamed.

“They’re after you!” you yelled and shot a few agents down, “this isn’t intel, they want you Bucky!” The smoke was flying up and with all the fast movements, it was getting harder to see him, but you saw the metal arm in the reflection.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m staying here!” He stopped to reload, but you knocked someone down and turned to face him.

Bucky took off but as he ran away, right before you lost sight of him, an arm wrapped tightly around your neck. You couldn’t see a face but you heard a voice, “he’ll turn himself in if he knows we have you, now this will hurt.” the butt of a gun slammed your temple, all you saw was black.

Time: unknown

Date: unknown

Your head hurt so bad, right as you were waking up it was a pulsing ache everywhere from between your eyes to your neck. It felt like waves, for a moment the pressure would drop but then slowly crawl back in, nothing was rigid. In the room you found yourself in there wasn’t much to register, just a cell that was a little longer than arm's length and some black box on the ceiling, it wasn’t a light but it seemed to hold something. There was no bed as well, you were sat up against the wall in a corner. As you moved to look around your neck all the way down to your knees ached; not to mention the pressure building in your head. It felt like you had been struck in the back of the head even though you thought it was in your temple when you were knocked out, your hand cupped high on your neck, right where your hair started. There was a sting and you pulled away with a hiss, a few pieces of scab came with it.

There were no windows, no source of light to see what time it was. But the fact that whatever cut was made to the back of your head was a fully scabbed and not bleeding gave away you had been asleep for a bit, that almost made it worse.

“Welcome, Soldat,” a voice with an accent came through, it was one you couldn’t figure out. “It seems our other weapon got away, we were gifted you instead; we are happy about it no less.'' the voice was coming from a speaker in the top left corner, not the black box directly above you.

“Where am I?” your voice sounded like sandpaper.

“In your cell,” you could hear the smirk, “but you’re not in Avenger’s territory anymore, would you like to know where you are?” he didn’t wait for you to answer, “I’ll give it to you if you follow this simple task, would you mind getting on your knees?” the voice asked, you stayed still, “right, I forgot. Soldat, get on your knees.” right away your knees smashed into the concrete floor. “Would you look at that, how pretty?”

“What that fuck?” you gasped out, your hands folded neatly on your lap as you sat back on your calves.

“Now that we know your abilities, you’re in Iceland, Hydra gifted us you.”

“You’re not Hydra?” you asked, this time louder and looking at the speaker.

“Oh, we are Hydra.” the voice laughed, “just not how you think we are...”

Time: 9:59pm

Date: September 27th, 2024

Bucky didn’t know how long he’d been curled in his bed with the curtains drawn, there was no perception of time at all. All he did was cry, all day. His body ached and crumbled into itself more and more as time went on. Everyone was mourning the loss of a friend, but to Bucky it was a lover. He held the picture you framed after your first date as a couple, that was one of the first times Bucky had truly smiled.

You both went to a really nice restaurant and when you were finished you waiter offered to take a picture because they saw you getting self conscious when your arm was up to take a selfie. The both of you leaned over the table and close to one another, right before the picture was taken Bucky reached over and placed his metal hand over yours, allowing it to be seen in the picture. It was something he regretted but after you framed it and kept it on your side of the bed, Bucky looked at it everyday with a smile.

The picture was still in the frame but it wasn’t on the bedside anymore, rather pushed up against Bucky’s chest. He’d pull it away to look at you from time to time, after picturing all the good times with you, your face seemed to change and warp until it wasn’t you. Bucky would run his finger down the glass and try to imagine the feeling of your skin again, he’d lost almost everyone in his life, all he wanted was to feel you one last time if it really was your time to go. Your smile was so bright it lit up the pitch black room he was crying in, your smile and your personality could keep an entire country running for years.

He ran out of salty tears and all that was left was wheezing and rocking back and forth in his bed, the emotions were working him out, sweat lines the neck rim of his t-shirt, but he’d also use the neck line to wipe the tears that slipped past his nose and lips. They would roll down and hit his pillow, he had already flipped it to get a dry surface.

Steve walked in, he didn’t need to knock because he knew what’s coming. Steve had watched you and Bucky grow from barely speaking to napping on the couch for everyone to see, it took a while but Steve knew from the beginning that you were perfect for him. Steve brought Bucky a sandwich everyday at noon because he refused to eat dinner and breakfast. Some days he wouldn’t eat at all but noon seemed to be the best time for him to eat everything.

“Wanda made it today actually, she added some chips on the side and made it real nice, Buck,” Steve went to the windows and opened the blinds, he did that everyday but when he would come back 24 hours later they’d be closed. “I also have news, about y/n…”

Steve saw for the first time in four days Bucky sit up, he saw the grief fade and a small shred of hope appear.

A/n: if you want to be tagged in this series let me know through an ask or anything!

#bucky series #bucky barnes series #bucky #Bucky Barnes #Bucky angst #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader

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mystery-star · 3 years

Text

Waiting for you - Spock

Pairing: Spock x reader (gender neutral)

Warnings: mentions of injury and death

Words: 1838

Star Trek universe: AOS

A/N: Just a lil thing I wrote because I haven’t written (at least for Spocko) in ages. And didn’t feel like writing on a series.

“She’s here. She’s here” you heard someone shouting beside you and looked around and finally you could see the Enterprise approaching in one of many tunnels above you. You smiled and stepped forward a little and waited for the crew to dismount. When you saw the first of them, your smile got broader and you got onto your tiptoes to look out for your husband. Not many people of the Enterprise had someone waiting for them and those who did seemed overjoyed. It made you look down for moment because you had a feeling that Spock wouldn’t greet you like others greeted their loved ones. Finally, you could see him and slightly raised your hand, hoping he’d see you. When he did, he came straight towards you, stopping half a meter in front of you

“(Y/N)” he said “What brings you to Yorktown?”

“I’ll give you three guesses” you replied and just threw yourself around his neck “I’ve missed you, Spock” you breathed against his skin and he hugged you back slightly.

“Am I therefore right to conclude that you came here in order to see me during my shore leave?”

“Right” you let go of him but only that you could kiss him. He cupped your face and kissed you back. At some point his hand found yours, slowly stroking his first two fingers against yours. But then he pulled away from you all of a sudden, just holding your hand. You turned around and saw two older Vulcans behind you.

“Commander, might we have a word? Alone?” you wanted to ask why you couldn’t come when Spock threw a glance at you and squeezed your hand

“Do you mind?”

“Just be quick” you pecked his cheek “I’ll be waiting for you, okay?” you handed him a keycard of the hotel where you had booked a room for you both. He gave a nod, then let go of your hand and followed the two men. With a sigh you looked after him and returned to the hotel, knowing he would be clever enough to find it when he was done.

But he only came when it was dark and you were already in bed, reading a magazine on your PADD.

“Have you been waiting with sleeping until I return?”

“Well, you got some days of shore leave, then I won’t see you for another two years. I want to use every minute with you that I can” he gave a nod and sat down on the bed, placing a device on the nightstand. “What did they want?”

“I will tell you in the morning”

“Alright” you put the PADD aside and stretched yourself a little before sitting up, crawling closer to him and wrapping your arms around him again, kissing him. “We now have better things to do, don’t you think?” he kissed you back and placed one of his hands in the small of your back, pulling you closer while he ran his other hand over the side of your face. After the kiss he leaned his forehead to yours and you bumped his nose with yours. “Did you have fun out there on the mission?”

“I have written and called you three times per week, as we have agreed on, and informed you about what you call ‘adventures’ and have also answered each question concerning them I was allowed to answer”

“Well yes but your last message was two days ago. I need a recap of the past two days. Or retell me your favorite mission. Doing it face-to-face is much better” you pecked his lips. He gave a nod, pulled you into his lap and started telling you how the Captain had attempted to make peace between two species that didn’t work out as planned. Then he went on to their arrival to Yorktown and suddenly his communicator beeped “Tell me that’s your private comm”

“It is not” he leaned forward to get it and you just wanted to stop him but let it happen with a sigh. Placing you back on the bed, he gave your hand a squeeze, took the comm, opened it and left the room. With a sigh you fell back on the bed, glancing to the PADD and considering if you should continue reading but then looked at the ceiling, repeating everything you had planned to do with Spock in the following days in your mind. Soon Spock returned and you sat up with a smile but his words ruined it “I must go”

“Go? Go where? Aren’t you on shore leave?”

“I am. However, there is a matter that requires my assistance”

“What is it?”

“I cannot tell you much but I must leave Yorktown”

“You’re shitting me”

“I do not joke”

“But… but… will you at least get that time off later on? How long will you be gone?”

“I suppose it should not take longer than 36 hours”

“Oh well…. Then you owe me yet another debriefing upon your return” he gave a nod, came closer to put his comm on his nightstand and pecking your forehead.

“Please make yourself a pleasant day tomorrow”

“Okay. And then I’ll be waiting here for you… again”

But Spock didn’t come home the evening or morning after he had left, so you decided to make yourself another nice day exploring another area of Yorktown. In the late afternoon, you suddenly heard how the station went on alert and after looking around you saw that a swarm of tiny ships tried attacking Yorktown. Around you everyone was in panic, screaming, rallying kids and running away while you stood there frozen, staring at the many little ships on the other side of Yorktown.

“We have to leave. Come. Now” someone next to you shouted, pulling on your arm

“Can we go somewhere safe? Like a… bunker?”

“A bunker on a Starbase?” the man started laughing slightly and shook his head.

“Or can we do something? Something to help? Is there a defense station or militia? Or help evacuate people?”

“That’s Starfleet’s business” as if on cue, there was an announcement, informing the public that there was an attack and that you should not panic. You let out a snort and watched how the people around you seemed to panic even more. You looked around and finally saw a security, officer, going over to him.

“Excuse me, Sir?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll all be safe, just stay calm and…”

“No, I wanted to ask if I can help something.”

“Help?”

“Yeah. Weapons, evacuate people or something” he looked at you, considered it a while then said he’d have to check it out. But before he could return, they managed to somehow blow up all the small ships. Somehow you couldn’t believe that this was everything and sure enough, there was another announcement informing the public that a great part of the ship had been destroyed but that three of them had gotten into Yorktown but that they still had the situation under control and would do everything to stop them. For some reason, you found that three ships hand entered Yorktown almost worse than the initial attack. Because you knew there probably wasn’t much you could do unless the ships came to that part of Yorktown, you sat down in a café, ordered a drink and watched the news on the big screen that gave a permanent update on the situation at the other end of Yorktown. Not even 15 minutes later, you heard that everyone was out of danger and the intruders had been rendered harmless. After a sigh, you finished your drink and then returned to the scene of the action, maybe there now was something you could help, like tidying up damage or helping the wounded. You stayed there and helped until it was dark and the volunteers were sent home, so you returned to the hotel. But you didn’t get far and the receptionist called you over.

“You are (Y/N) (Y/L/N), right?”

“That’s me, yeah”

“I have message for you, from a doctor Leonard McCoy”

“I know him. He’s the doctor on the Enterprise. What is this message about?”

“He lets you know, that your husband… Commander Spock will spend the night in Yorktown hospital”

“Ho-hospital? They’re back? What does he have? Is it bad? Can I visit him? When did they get back?”

“He only told me that so you know where your husband is and in case you wish to see him. I don’t know anything else” you nodded and with a thank-you you ran out of the hotel, to the hospital, where you had brought a few people earlier today. You went to a visitor station to register your visit and once you knew where your husband was and that he currently could be visited, you rushed to the elevator and then to his room. When you saw Spock lying in bed awake, you let out a deep breath and moved closer.

“Spock” you breathed, not sure what to say and having a hundred questions at the tip of your tongue. "How are you?” was the first you asked

“I am well, (Y/N). The doctors insisted I stayed the night to ensure that my condition does not become worse” you nodded and came closer, taking his hand, pressing a kiss to it as you sat down on the edge of the bed. To your delight, he squeezed your hand.

“What happened? To you, I mean?” he explained how on the mission his side was impaled by a piece of metal and that McCoy didn’t have the correct equipment to properly treat him. “At least you’re safe” you ran your free hand through his hair. “When did you even get back?”

“4.2 hours ago”

“That was… that was when the attack happened” he agreed and said it was them who played a great role in stopping them. “Oh so that big ship that destroyed the central plaza was you, the Franklin?”

“Indeed”

“And what about the Enterprise?”

“She has been destroyed”

“Oh no. What about the crew? Are they safe?”

“We have not yet been able to ascertain who has survived the attack on the Enterprise and who lost their life, however, I am certain that at least 350 people have survived”

“Out of 428 that’s still a lot that could have died”

“Besides, I also know of at least 16 casualties from the crew” you gave a nod

“And what now? I mean is your mission over? The Enterprise is gone”

“We do not know yet but it is certain that we will remain her for longer than the originally scheduled 12 days of shore leave”

“Well, then we got more time to do something as long as we’re here. And I get to see you longer. Ha that visit was worth it” you leant down to kiss his forehead. “Now we just gotta make sure you’ll be on your feet as soon as possible because I have lot planned for the next days”

Taglist: @softsapphicideals

#spock #spock x reader #spock x you #spock imagine #aos spock #imagine

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ally-writes-many-things · 2 years

Text

Promises (Jason Kolchek) Part 6

Summary: You were a DIA Field Agent working with Camp Slayer when a certain man with a southern accent caught your attention.

Words: 2.5k

Prompts:

Requested: Yes/no

Warnings or A/N:

Tags: @house-of-kolchek @fruitcup4prez @thefictionalgemini @shinydixon

You turn your head just in time to see Nick fire an explosive from a gun and it blew when it hit the creature giving us a time to escape. "Run! For God 's sake. Run!"

Jason pushed you forward as you ran forward. Jason and Salim tried to climb up but they couldn't get a good grip on it. You noticed that there was an opening at the bottom and you quickly got on your stomach and looked through it. You saw that it wasn't blocked off. "Under here,"

You quickly moved under it as you heard Nick yelled that he'll cover you guys. Then it was Salim, then it was Jason. Once Nick was through, Jason tapped Nick's shoulder a few times. You heard the happiness in Jason's voice. "Shit Nicky! You turned up like the fucking calvary! I thought you were dead,"

Nick took a deep breath before shaking his head. "Not my time,"

You saw Eric come through next. You could tell Jason still wasn't happy with him but he didn't say anything about it. "Colonel! You made it through,"

Eric got to his feet and sighed. "Yeah, crawling through that tunnel was a highly uncomfortable experience,"

You heard Rachel coming through the tunnel. "Good to see you again, ma'am," Jason said, offering her his hand. "Take my hand,"

Rachel grabbed his hand and he helped her stand up. As soon as he stood up, you ran to her and hugged her as tight as you could. "Thank God, you're okay!"

Rachel may have put you in a tough spot with Nick and Eric but she was still your best friend and after the shit you've been through today, you didn't care about any of it except that she was okay. Eric too. You let go of her and then walked over to Eric and hugged him. "I'm glad you're okay too,"

You let go of him and looked at Nick. Nick started to walk over to you and you met him halfway. You two did your handshake before he wrapped his arms around both of your shoulders. Nick may piss you off with the Rachel thing but Camp Slayer wouldn't be the same without him. My"Good to see you, Y/L/N,"

"This place,"

Salim's voice broke you and Nick out of the hug and you saw that he was walking around. The rest of you did too. The area you were in you couldn't even describe. There were these things that looked like horns that would make noise and then there were crates and notes that the explorers must have left. Then in the middle of the area, there was some type of device thing. "What is this place?"

Salim turned and faced you all. "We need a plan,"

Jason looked straight back at him, with all seriousness he could muster. "We fuck those things up and get the fuck out,"

Salim wasn't having any of Jason's bullshit. "Good plan,"

Jason turned to look at Nick who had put the rest of what we had left ammo and gun wise on a table. "Sergeant Kay, what do we got left?"

"So we uh have eight clips of 556 FMJ. Three forty mile high ex rounds. Couple of pistols. Got four clips between them. We can make that work and one block of C4 combustion block,"

Jason took a couple of steps forward. "Well, what about the UV lamp?"

Eric waved it around to see what could be fixed. "Took a knock but I can fix it. Just need a minute,"

Nick sighed. "All in enough, it's not enough,"

Jason placed the dynamite on the table. "We also got this,"

"It's old and unpredictable,"

"We work with what we got,"

Jason picked up the dynamite to look at it. "The fuses are shot but we can use the C4 to detonate them. Let's just hope they still pack a punch,"

Salim was the next to talk. "Those vampires come from those cocoons. You saw how many there are in that vault. They're could be thousands in there,"

Jason looked between Salim and Nick. "So we blow them up. Burn as many as those mother fuckers up as we can and then head to the surface. What do you think, Sergeant?"

"Orrah,"

Jason picked up one of the pistols and handed it to Salim, handle frist. Salim walked over to him and grabbed it but Rachel interjected. "I'm not giving him a gun,"

You looked over at Rachel, done with unnecessary drama. "Rach, trust me. He's trustworthy. Plus we're gonna need all the help we can get it,"

Jason placed a hand on your back before dropping it. "We are well past that by now ma'am. We stand together as one. Looks like our explorer friends were here too. We should search this place before we head out,"

You heard the UV light turn on. "There! I got it,"

You all spread out to do whatever. You looked at Jason who was on the other side of the area and you really wanted to talk to him but you wanted to check on the others first and search the area and you wanted to think about what you want to say to him. Salim was reading something, looking at the device in the middle of the room. Eric and Rachel were fixing Eric's prosthesis and Nick was standing looking at the items. You chose to go to Nick frist cause he looked like he needed to talk to someone. You walked over to him but looked over at Rachel and Eric. "She chose him, didn't she?"

Nick nodded. "Yep. And I don't really need the 'I told you' speech, okay? I really don't,"

"I wasn't going to say that. I'm sorry Nick. I am,"

"It is what it is,"

You looked at the C4 and the dynamite. "You think it'll work?"

"I'll make it work,"

You sensed that Nick didn't want to talk anymore so you made your way over to Salim which only thing he said was that the journal he was reading was from Mary and that she wanted to go home, which you felt.

You looked over at Rachel and Eric and walked over there. "Hey guys,"

Rachel and Eric looked up at you. "So we're thinking about giving our marriage another chance,"

"That's great. I wish you the best. I really do,"

You meant that. They truly deserve the best that life offers. If that's with each other, then so be it. You noticed a create with a note on it. It confirmed your suspicion as you finally got your answers. Lady Bradshaw did all of these because she thought she could harness the power of the vampires. She manipulated Van Huyten into sabotaging everything. You found another note next to it and you read it to yourself.

The bones of this temple are drench in blood. We have set foot on an uncharted shore and arose something ancient and wicked. A blasphemy that came in indescribable shape and forms. For eons, we lived as children in this world unaware of the horrors that slumbered under our feet. Now, we have gladly flown open the gates of madness. I fear being taken but I must do what I have to do. We must seal this place for eternity. For all mankind. Mary, I'm sorry. "None of them made it out out alive,"

You got one more thing to check out before going to talk to Jason. You walked up to the board which the only thing that was on it was a piece of paper that has a circle of events on it. Hunts victim-> Implants parasites -> Parasite Gestates -> Host death -> Parasite takes over. This must be the cycle of how the vampires are created.

It was time to go and talk to Jason. You walked over to him and he looked at you and smiled. "About time,"

"Girlfriend?"

Jason looked down at his feet then back at you. "I hope so,"

You pushed his gun out of the way. He pushed it up to where it'll hook on to his back and you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck while he wrapped his arms around your waist, being careful not to touch your hip. "Only if you're the boyfriend,"

"Hmm...deal," He leaned down to kiss you ever so softly.

The sweet kiss only lasted a few minutes before he broke it apart and placed his forehead on yours. "Why didn't I have the balls to tell you? We almost kissed before this, I should've told you. I should've told you the day you got scared of the stick,"

You chuckled. "Hey, that stick really looked like a snake. But it's better late than never,"

You two just stood like this, welcoming the warmth you both provided. Welcoming the weight on each other. You just wanted to stay like this. You've never been so in love with someone like you have been with Jason. He drove you nuts but in a good way. Every time he called you a pet name or slightly touched you, your heart raced. You wouldn't know what to do if you didn't have Jason. "Hey Jase,"

"What darlin'?"

"Did you mean what you said earlier?"

"Every single thing. I love you and I've been in love with you since I laid my eyes on you for the first time,"

You kissed him a little harder than he kissed you but not hard enough to cause anything else to happen. "I love you too,"

Salim's voice broke you two out of this moment. "I think I found something,"

You let go of Jason and started to walk over to him but Jason caught your arm. He moved his hand down to your hand and interlaced his finger with yours. You looked down at your locked hands and smiled. By the time you got there, Salim was tracing something on the device and music started coming out of those horn things. "Oh! It's singing,"

As soon as it started singing, Rachel looked like she was going to throw up. Salim looked at her. “Are you okay?”

Rachel ignored that and pointed towards whatever this thing was. “There’s meaning here,”

“It’s a language formed from chords. Music scales. Sonics, Mary was a pianist. She deciphered it. She thought these carvings represented the stars. Do you see? That’s Cetus. The Whale,”

Rachel wasn’t amused. “We’re a long way from the night sky,”

“It’s a mystery. According to the journal there was only one scale of sound in the device but Mary was studying it alone. I think there may be another. I’m going to need your help,”

“What can I do?”

“This console is too big to operate single-handedly,”

You watched as Salim and Rachel traced a pattern on the device and the sound came out of everywhere. Salim put his hands on his hips as he looked around. “Isn’t that something? Mary believed that these creatures were once peaceful. Their language was one of music. How could they not feel emotion? Then a tragedy fell upon them.Their great empire…collapsed. Their music fell silent. And they turned on each other. What happened? A sickness? A madness? What turned them from architects into killers? Whatever it is, it twisted them. Now they’re creatures of hate. Animals. Dead things! No one left to kill.So they slept and they waited. They waited for us,”

You all were too busy listening to Salim to pay attention to what Rachel had been doing until she let out a high pitched scream. You all turned and looked and saw that she was freaking out. Nick and Eric tried to reach her by calling her name but it wasn’t wasn’t working. Salim was the one to realize what was happening. “She has it…It’s inside her!”

You saw that Rachel had a WP and put it in between her knees and she looked like she was gonna stab it but she dropped the knife. Eric and Nick ran to either side of her and held her. Rachel was still struggling. “They came from the stars. This isn’t their home, it’s an ark,”

Nick looked at Salim. “Do something! She’s turning into one of them!”

Eric was right next to her. “Please Rachel, you have to hold on,”

“It’s killing me!”

You saw Jason walking up to them with a gun pointed at her. “I can put her out of her misery. Hold her the fuck down,”

You walked in front of him and pulled his gun down. “No. You're not shooting her, Jason”

Eric looked at you and Jason. “We can still save her,”

Nick’s voice started to crack. “There’s gotta be a way. We can’t lose her,”

Jason moved the gun out from under your hand and moved to where you weren't in the way. “There’s no other way. Hold her down,”

Rachel looked at Jason, pleading. “Jason…don’t do it. It's me, Jason. Please….put down the gun,”

Jason finally did put the gun down. “Fuck it,”

Jason walked over to where she was and helped Nick pick her up.”Why didn’t you do it?”

“We have to have hope,”

Salim who was quiet during most of this spoke up. “Wait-Can I- Can I suggest something?”

Jason wasn’t his calm and collected self anymore. He was just plain aggressive which you couldn't fault him for that. “Well, fuck man, just say it!”

“There might be another way. The fluid in the cocoons,”

“Aw shit. I think I know where you’re going with this,”

Nick turned away from Rachel to look at Jason.“The fuck he is talking about,”

“The fluid, it keeps the flesh alive but it stops the aging,”

Everyone was on the last nerves and frantic. You were too but you tried to hide it. “How could you possibly know that?”

“I saw it! A man covered in this fluid, he should have been dead but he was alive. It kept him alive. If we can get Rachel in there, it could stop this,”

“Are you for real?”

“That’s crazy! We don’t know anything about it,”

“It could stop her from transforming. The cocoon will keep her safe until we return with help. It’s our only hope,”

Rachel was done with this conversation. “Just do it. Anything to stop this,”

With that Nick and Jason went back underneath the tiny passageway and so did Eric and I. So did Salim. Nick was carrying her legs and Jason was carrying her head but Rachel started thrashing around causing them to drop her. .Eric wasn’t having this and pulled out the UV light. “There's no more time! Maybe we can burn the infection out of her?”

Eric had shined the UV light on and she kept backing up and gagged at it. She threw up some sort of parasite looking thing and the parasite ran away. “That was inside me. I’m going to kill that fucking thing,”

Rachel yanked the UV light out of Eric’s hand and took off to find the bug thing. Eric followed her. You and the others stood in the same spot watching them. You saw that she walked over to a device thing and the bug thing jumped on her and she struggled to get it off her but she eventually did and she killed it by stepping on it.

#house of ashes jason kolchek #dark pictures jason #house of ashes jason #jason kolchek #jason kolchek x reader #jason kolchek/you #jason kolchek fic #jason kolchek x you #eric king #rachel king #nick kay #salim othman #house of ashes

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rhysismydaddy · 3 years

Text

Prisoner's Game Pt. 4 (Rowaelin)

THANK YALL FOR BEING PATIENT I AM SO SORRY

Parts 1 \ 2 \ 3

________________________________

Journal Entry #2000

Sometimes I think it wouldn't be so bad to die.

To leave this island forever and not have to worry about being discovered anymore.

I wasn't always this macabre, but two thousand days of checking over my shoulder and wishing for a man's murder has dulled the wishful excitement I felt when I first got here.

Five years ago, I was grateful to even be alive.

I couldn't believe a stranger give up everything for me and the others--couldn't believe she'd agree to fight this battle because of my decision.

I have to actually remind myself to still be grateful to her, if I'm being honest.

Because sometimes I think about that night all those years ago, when she showed up in the darkest part of the night to kill me. When she'd held the knife with a trembling hand and told me that the price for betraying Arobynn Hamel was my life. When we discovered together that she couldn't bring herself to kill me.

Sometimes I think it would be better if she would've just done it.

At least it would've been over.

At least I wouldn't have to spend years on an island, living the same day over and over again. I think that's what's driving me mad, beyond anything else.

The predictability of my time.

Every day, I follow the same routine. The routine she laid out for me in a hushed whisper.

I wake up and go to the small café a mile down the road to watch the news. And every day, I pray to see Arobynn Hamel's face next to to the words, "Breaking news: billionaire crime boss found dead."

Because that was her only stipulation.

That the ten of us would stay on the island, hidden from sight, until news of his death was announced. In exchange, we got to live.

She'd warned me it would take a long time.

She'd told me to not get complacent.

And then she'd whispered what she planned to do.

Even now, over five years later, the words she'd whispered while shoving a plane ticket and a new passport into my hands were crystal clear.

"The devil isn't going to go down easy."

~Aelin~

The shaft of her recently-fashioned shiv was cold in her hand as she silently grabbed it from under her pillow.

The soft clink of the bars shutting again told her whoever had just snuck in her cell was now locked in with her.

Unfortunate for them.

She wasn't afforded the luxury of a clock, but she knew it was the middle of the night. Normal visiting hours were far over. There was no one here but the bored night guards, four janitorial staff, and rows and rows of sleeping inmates.

And the idiot trying to sneak up behind her bed.

She kept her eyes closed as she listened to the quiet steps walk closer and closer. Right when she was about to turn around and attack, they stopped.

Then the weirdest thing happened. It sounded like whoever it was slid down the wall directly across from her bed.

A killer wouldn't do that.

Curiosity piqued, Aelin turned her head to see who and what was going on.

It was dark in the cell, but she'd recognize that shock of silver hair anywhere.

"Rowan?" she whispered, so quietly she almost didn't even hear herself. "What are you doing here?"

He didn't respond, but the way his muscles tensed told her he'd heard her.

Slowly, she sat up so she could see him better and maybe figure out what was going on.

For the first time in a long time, he looked less than perfect. Far less than it, actually.

His hair was going every possible direction, like he'd been running hands through it and pulling on it. He was wearing a gray t-shirt, rumpled dress slacks, and tennishoes that weren't even tied.

But that wasn't what worried her most. It was the way he was sitting completely still and silent.

He didn't even look like he was breathing.

"Hey," she tried again. "What's going on? Look at me."

Another few heartbeats passed, and then he slowly shook his head.

"Please, Rowan. Just look at me."

He winced, like hearing her say his name physically hurt him.

And then his head came up.

Deep green eyes met hers, and even though it was what she'd wanted, what she'd needed, Aelin instantly wished he'd look away.

Because with one look, she knew he'd figured it out.

He knew, and the pain and turmoil in his eyes... she'd put that there.

She'd seen him angry and sad and happy and everything in between, but she'd never seen him, or anyone else, look so broken.

He looked completely and utterly broken as he sat before her.

"Rowan," she whispered, shaking her head even though she didn't know why.

He bowed his head again, seemingly unable to even look at her.

"Ro," she whispered, dropping to her knees in front of him.

Almost like the old nickname broke something inside him, Rowan's shoulders started to shake.

And then he sobbed.

It was the kind of sob that couldn't possibly be held in. The kind that made her heart clench and tears brew in her own eyes, the kind that told her how much pain he was in.

Tears ran down her cheeks as she put a hand on his arm. He shook off the touch like it burned him and looked up at her again.

"I ruined your life," he croaked, the tears on his face reeking of self-hatred. "I ruined your life."

She shook her head. "No, you didn't."

Anger bled into his tone. "I put you in prison for eight years for murdering people who aren't even fucking dead, Aelin. I didn't listen to you, didn't look hard enough. I've had the clues you left me for eight years. We were in love, and I didn't even try hard enough to... I... please explain to me how I didn't ruin your life."

"You did not ruin my life, Rowan," she told him again, meaning every word.

"Eight years of your life, gone because of me. I don't even understand how you can look at me." He huffed a laugh, but he was far from amused. "No wonder you hate me."

His chest was heaving, his hands were in fists, and his stubble-crested jaw was damp with tears.

And she'd thought he hadn't cared.

Aelin felt like a fool--a horrible, stupid fool--for ever doubting him. For thinking him indignant.

Because this was technically what she'd wanted. What she'd planned to happen.

She'd wanted it to hurt, had wanted him to feel an ounce of what she'd felt when he'd led the case against her.

But it wasn't what she wanted anymore.

Moving slowly, Aelin crawled onto his lap, put her hands on the side of his face, and lifted his gaze to hers while she said, "Arobynn Hamel ruined my life, not you."

He shook his head, breathing heavily. "No-"

She cut him off by wrapping herself around him.

Like she was trying to heal physical wounds, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled his head to her chest. She sank into him until there wasn't an inch of space between them. Her hands wandered over his back as she held him tight to her.

He was stiffer than a board at first, but eventually he sagged against her, wrapping his arms around her in return.

It was like he was drowning in the sea, and she was the only thing preventing him from being swept away. He shook, his entire body trembling, and his arms became a vice around her.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered after a moment.

She shook her head, but it didn't matter. He said it again, and again, and again, until his voice was hoarse and broken.

Aelin ran her hands over his back slowly, and just held him as pain he'd felt for eight years seemed to reach a crest.

Eventually he stopped crying and just laid against her, warm breath fanning across her collarbone.

"I'm so sorry, Aelin," he whispered yet again.

"Please stop saying that. None of this is your fault. You aren't the reason I'm in prison."

"Yes, I am," he insisted, shifting beneath her. "But I'm getting you out right now."

He looked up, eyes bright with new-found purpose, and wiped the tears off his cheeks like they were distracting him.

"What?"

He nodded quickly. "We can bring those people back, and you can get your life back. I know it's not the same, and I know I can't get you these years back, but-"

"No."

He paused. "No?"

She shook her head. "I can't leave yet."

"Leave? What the hell does that mean?"

"It means I still have shit to do here. I'm not leaving before it's done."

His eyes narrowed. "You're acting like this is a hotel, not a high-security prison. And what do you even mean?"

Aelin had the good sense to feel a little guilty as she slowly got to her feet and walked to the wall at the back of the cell. A few well-placed taps later, it swung open.

Rowan's mouth dropped open, then closed, then repeated the whole routine like he couldn't decide what to say first.

He apparently figured it out, because it opened again so he accuse, "I knew you were robbing me! Where the fuck is my bed?"

She sighed and rubbed her temples. "That's what you care about right now? Seriously?"

He grumbled something as he got to his feet and leaned into the makeshift doorway in the wall.

It took him a few moments to examine the ladder leading down to the tunnel, and then he straightened and looked at her again with a mixture of confusion, awe, and understanding on his face.

"You've been sneaking out this whole time."

She nodded.

Most of her escapes had been in the past six months, but she'd occasionally left in the years before to check on something or track down a lead.

"You beat up your roommate so they'd put you back in solitary."

Aelin nodded again.

"But how did you know they'd bring you to this cell?"

A small smile pulled on her lips. "Look again," she told him, gesturing towards the open brick door.

He stuck his head in the hole again and couldn't stifle his surprised intake of breath as he saw the other ladders.

He came back in the cell, and the expression on his face made her bite her lip to hold back a smile. "You... you tunneled into prison?"

"Into every solitary cell," she confirmed.

"When? Why?"

"One of my old jobs for Arobynn was to break a client of his out of solitary. I knew which cell he was in, but... getting locked up is kind of a right of passage for my former career, so I figured I'd plan ahead and give myself a way out, should I ever need it." She smiled. "Hamel never could figure out how I did it, so it's safe for me to use now."

Rowan spent a long moment looking at her. "That's... genius."

"I tend to be," she agreed.

They were both silent for a minute, then he said, "You need to tell me everything. Enough of both of us wasting time assuming what the other is thinking. We need to get everything out in the open, and we need to do it now."

Aelin nodded, knowing it was true.

It was time to either finally trust him or kill him, and just the thought of the latter made something inside of her twist so hard she felt nauseous.

She nodded to the tunnel, not wanting to have the following conversation overheard by any prying ears. He nodded and followed her down, closing the door behind him.

When she knew they were alone, she started to explain.

"Maddison Kliff, my first so-called victim, funded her campaign for senator with money from Arobynn Hamel."

Rowan's eyebrows went up in surprise, but he nodded for her continue.

"He gave it to her, with the caveat that when she won, she'd vote against renewable energy for Rifthold. He has millions in oil, so when she did the exact opposite and voted for the green plan that switched the city to 70% electric, he took a pretty hard hit." She took a deep breath. "The day after the vote, I got my orders to kill her."

His jaw clenched.

"I went that night, thinking I could do it. Thinking I'd get it over with and never think about it again. I snuck in her townhouse and had everything set up." She let out a laugh. "But then I realized my deal with Arobynn covered ten of Sam's jobs. If I killed Maddison, and did a good enough job of it to get away with it, I knew he'd put nine more names on the list."

"So you didn't do it," Rowan said, like he already knew but needed to hear her say it.

"So I didn't do it."

Aelin ran a hand through her hair, starting to pace. "I ran. And then I went back the next night with a suitcase, a new ID for her, and a plan."

"Why Aruba?" he asked.

"I'd done all that research for our trip," she said, a pang of sadness shooting through her at the memory of planning their first vacation together. "I didn't have time to research another place. And I never told you, but the house I wanted us to rent? You kind of... own it."

"I own a house in Aruba," he repeated slowly, his tone making it clear he didn't understand.

She rolled her eyes at his tone. "Arobynn might be a bastard I'd love to put in a grave, but he paid me well. I was eighteen and didn't know what else to do with the money. So I bought a house."

"In Aruba. In my name."

She nodded. "No one can trace it back to you. It's hidden in an off-shore corporation, owed by another off-shore corporation, but technically, yes, you're the owner. It was going to be your Christmas present."

"You bought me a house," his lips twitched. "For a Christmas present."

"I was in love with you," she muttered. Then pointed out, "My lack of shopping impulse control really isn't the point of the story."

He rolled his eyes, still fighting a grin at her antics. "Please continue."

"Right. So I sent her to the house in Aruba and told her to stay at the house with anyone else he wanted me to kill. I told her to not say a word to anyone besides those people, and that I'd be forced to actually kill her if she did. If Arobynn finds out they're alive, he'll send someone for me."

She explained the list next. "He requires proof of all completed jobs, so I kept the "murder weapons" and made sure the crime scenes had enough blood to indicate the person couldn't still be alive. It was mostly fake, but I took just enough blood from each of the victims and mixed it in to make it realistic enough to fool DNA scanners. Then I put the weapons in storage lockers he owns and wrote the numbers down so I wouldn't forget them."

Rowan nodded, most certainly remembering that part.

He was doing a good job of hiding his emotions, but she still saw how heavily this all weighed on him.

Everything he'd been feeling for eight years was hitting him at once, and while explanation made sense, it probably didn't make him feel any better about the role he'd played in all of this.

He confirmed it by asking, "Why didn't you tell me?"

He asked it almost casually, but she didn't miss the pain he couldn't keep from seeping into his voice.

"I wanted to," she breathed. "Gods, I wanted to. I know now you investigated before giving the list to the cops, but to me, it looked like you found it and just turned me in. You never asked me. And you looked at me... you looked at me like you thought I was guilty. I knew you wouldn't believe me."

Rowan went quiet, regret and shame coming off of him in waves so thick she almost choked on it.

"How is all of this going to play out?" he asked, seemingly trying to force himself to think about something else. "And what do you have to do that you need to be in prison for?"

She hesitated, suddenly not wanting to tell him.

Not out of a lack of trust, but because if she told him... he'd realize she's guilty of the crime she's in prison for. He might go back to hating her, back to thinking her a horrible person.

And she just got him back.

She's pulled from her thoughts when he reaches a hand out, slowly gripping her jaw to tilt her face to his.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, the words final.

Of course he knew what she was thinking just from looking at her face. He always was a little too astute.

A part of Aelin wanted to put on a brave face and act like that wasn't exactly what she'd been worrying about, but a bigger part wanted him. Wanted him to see that even after all this time, she needed him.

So she forced down the witty jokes and sultry smiles she usually used as ways to hide her vulnerability and looked up at him.

"Promise?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "I promise, Aelin."

His hand was still on her face, and he leaned in until his forehead rested against hers. "I'm never going to leave you again. I'm so... I'm so fucking sorry I did in the first place. I should've come to you, or at least listened when you told me you were innocent."

"I'm sorry I thought you didn't fight for me," she said back. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

They'd both done things they regretted, but Aelin knew that now, no matter what, he was telling the truth. He wasn't going to leave her.

The knowledge felt like a weight lifting off her shoulders, and just to lighten the mood, she whispered, "And I'm sorry I stole your bed."

He pulled back to glare at her. "You're going to explain one day how you even pulled that off. But I'd like the answer to my other question first."

Aelin took a step back and ran a hand through her hair.

"Arobynn Hamel dying is the endgame, Rowan. I have to stay in prison so I can kill him and have an alibi no one will question."

He paused, and for a moment, her fears skyrocketed, so she rushed to explain, "As long as he's alive, those people have to be in hiding and I have to look like I killed them. Once he's dead, I can bring them back without worrying Arobynn will kill them. Or me."

He gave her a strange look, but she spoke before he could, explaining, "It's why I've been in prison for so long. I would've killed him and ended it years ago, but I only found him a couple months ago. He's been in hiding ever since I was locked up, because the FBI knew I was one of his and started looking for him."

"Okay, but Aelin-"

She cut him off. "I know it's insane and not at all ideal, but I need you to leave me in here. Just until he's dead, and then it's over."

He stepped forward and grabs her shoulders, shaking her slightly.

And then he did the weirdest thing.

He smiled.

"What the hell do you look happy about?" she demanded. "I'm being serious-"

It was his turn to interrupt her. "Aelin, if that's the stipulation, you're already free."

Unease drifted through her stomach. "What do you mean?"

"I mean he's already dead."

Shock rushed through her so fast and thoroughly, her vision swam and she swayed in his grip. "What... what did you just say?"

"That's why I came today, now. I actually figured out you were innocent two days ago, but I wasn't going to come until I could tell you with certainty I was getting you out, and I knew you couldn't bring everyone back without risking your life. I've spent the past 48 hours planning a jailbreak and a way to sneak you to somewhere the US doesn't have extradition."

He grinned again. "But then it was announced on the 11 o'clock news tonight that he died last week of pneumonia complications. His family kept it private because they wanted a small funeral, but he's dead, Aelin."

Still feeling the weight of shock, she argued, "He's not dead."

"But he is."

"No," she insisted, pushing away from him and starting to pace again. "He can't be dead."

His face softened at the panic in her voice. "Aelin, I know you wanted it to be you, but-"

"No, Rowan, you don't understand. I mean he cannot physically be dead, because I haven't finished killing him!"

It was his turn to be shocked.

"What do you mean you haven't finished killing him?"

She took a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions in check. "I've been poisoning him since the day I figured out where he holes up. Turns out he has kidney problems and goes in once a week for dialysis. I show up and add a little... extra to his medication. The last time I went was less than a week ago, and while he might have been sick, he most definitely was still alive."

Besides that, what were the odds that Rowan figured out her "victims" were still alive, and just two days later Arobynn croaks?

It would be one hell of a coincidence, and Aelin learned long ago to not believe in those.

His eyes went wide. "What? You mean he faked his death? Why the hell would he do that?"

"Because," she said slowly, dread forming like a lead ball in her stomach as she realized what this meant for her, for the ten people whose lives she'd traded her freedom for. "I told Maddison and the others to wait for news of his death before coming back. I told them that until he was dead, they weren't safe."

She shook her head, whispering, "I told them to watch the news."

Rowan realized what she was saying and cursed.

"He knows."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Lemme know in the comments if you want to be tagged!

Part 5 will (realistically) be out in the next three weeks. Sorry for the slow updates; school is consuming all my time and energy.

@audreycressworth @whimsicallyreading @onceupona-chaos @lil-unoriginal-weirdo-273sole @surielandiareendgame @captain-swan-is-endgame @poisonous00 @vasudharaghavan @sailorsassley @endlessdaydream @swankii-art-teacher @thenerdandfandoms @emily-gsh @beanco8 @stokingthemidnightflame @mis-lil-red @ladyfireheart-and-buzzard @sheharahu @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @jorjy-jo @court-of-dreams-and-ashes @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @live-the-fangirl-life @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @loudphantomdragon @gracie-rosee @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #rowan whitehorn #tog #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #aelin galythinius

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luimagines · 3 years

Text

The Chain Confess While Your Hurt/ Upset Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

This section will include the W Trio! Warrior Wild and Wind!

As per usual Reader in Wind’s scenario is the same age.

Warrior’s cut can be easily taken out of context- (in fact it technically is) but reader discretion is advised for that one. It’s basically, reader strips, teases, is shameless, and Warrior panics.

Nothing bad but you never know.

Content under the cut!

Warrior

“Warrior you can’t be serious.” You bare your teeth in a snarl and place your hands on your hips. “You did not just ask me to strip and crawl down some time forsaken tunnel while you get to wait behind and hope that the others are on their way to help us.”

“Ok, when you put it like that-”

“Why do I have to do it?” You growl. “Why don’t you strip and crawl down there? Why was I your first option?”

“You’re smaller than I am, I don’t think I’ll even fit.” Warrior groans. “It’s not like I’d just ask you-”

“To put on a show or something? Is that what you’re after?” You raise an eyebrow.

Warrior chokes on his own spit at your bluntness and he feels his face flush from it. Admittedly, he wouldn’t be opposed but he’s not going to say any of that out loud. “It’s like not that. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh then what ever did you mean, dear Captain? I’m almost tempted to do it just to get a rise out of you.”

Warrior begins to regret ever suggesting this. He’ll die. This will be the way he dies. He knows for a fact that if you do, it’ll get a rise out of him, if you know what I mean. It wasn’t on the forefront of his mind when he first mentioned it because the mission is first but he regrets. Oh, he regrets.

But now that it’s out, he can’t take it back.

“I mean, I can try to do it.” Warrior offers to take your place to save his pride. “I can go first. It was my idea.”

“No, no-” You put a hand up to stop him and grip the hem of your shirt with the other. “-It’s not like it was a bad idea. And since the ever gracious Hero of Hyrule volunteered me-”

“Please don’t say it like that. You do not have to do this. Please stop, oh my- For Din’s sake!” Warrior whips his hands over his eyes as you rip your shirt over your head and turns on his heel for good measure. “I’m sorry! Is that what you want to hear? Put your shirt back on. What if the others on the other side or something? Or monsters? Or spikes!”

“Spikes? Really? Is that the farthest your imagination goes?” He hears you snort.

You have no idea what’s going on in my imagination, Warrior gulps and puts his other hand on his face out of embarrassment. He knows his face is beyond ruby red and he doubts that he’ll ever live this down. If Cia and Lana are watching he’s equally dead. “Have you no shame?”

“Pretty much.” He can hear the shrug in your voice and the way your belt buckle hits the ground.

“You really don’t have to do this.” Warrior whines, forcing himself to not turn around. “I don’t know how many times I have to say this. You. Do not.”

“Too late. Shirt is off. Pants are off. Shoes are off. Hair is up.” You start going down the list. “Sword... is going to have to stay behind.”

At least at that he hears you hesitate.

“Please take a weapon.” He nearly begs. “Please take a weapon with you through the tunnel.”

You don’t respond for a second and he peeks a little beyond his fingers. He doesn’t turn around, as much as he wants to look you in the eye for this and settles for staring at his shoes.

“I’ll take my carving knife.” He hear you say and he can hear you shuffle against the stone floor.

“Not a bow or maybe something a bit more sharp?” Warrior offers.

“I’m going in.”

“I’m so sorry.” Warrior takes a breath. “I’m so so sorry.”

“Quit being a baby. I’ll be right back. Watch my clothes.”

“I’ll watch over them with my life.”

“Good. See you on the flip side.”

He waits in the time it takes for you to shimmy through the tunnel until only your feet are showing before he makes his way over to your clothes and picks them up. The tunnel is dark and long and he’s not sure what to do in the mean time you’re gone.

He sits down in front of the tunnel and begins folding your clothes.

“WARRIOR!!” You shout down the tunnel in a panic. “This is bad! FIRE! LOTS OF IT!”

He gets to his knees at the information once it reaches him.

“I’m coming back and praying it doesn’t come my way!”

“Be careful!” He shouts and knows that he can’t really do anything to help.

“OH GOD SOMETHING EXPLODED!” You shout and he can barley see you through the light that’s beginning to shine through.

There’s a panic in his chest and he shoots to his feet to stand by the tunnel’s entrance.

“Fire! There is fire! I am on fire!” You scream.

The second your hand comes even close to the entrance, Warrior gets on his knees again and pulls you through the tunnel.

He’s not so concerned about the way your pulled out of the tunnel or how you scrape against the stone.

You do have some burns that he’s concerned about and he’s quick to rip his scarf off and place it around you, covering you and snuffing out the flames that have appeared around you.

“I don’t know what happened.” You say and wince as he pats the flames out. “One minute everything’s fine and the next there’s fire and something explodes and I’m crawling all the way through that nasty tunnel again with flames up my-”

“Ok, ok, hold on, I think I have an extra potion.” Warrior pulls his scarf up to your neck and wraps it around you like a blanket.

“Everything hurts!” You cry and slowly go to lay down on the stone, it’s cool against your burns and you sigh.

“Here.” Warrior takes out the potion from his pack and uncorks it, giving it to you gently as he sits beside you.

“At least I’m not alone.” You sip it from the side and let the magic do its job.

“I’m sorry, this is my fault.”

“No, it was just your idea. You didn’t make me go through there.”

“I should have stopped you.”

“I’m not even that hurt, calm down.”

“I didn’t even go after you.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t fit.”

“I could have tried.”

“Well at least it’s only me and not the both of us. Time would probably have both of our heads if we were both stupid.” You snort and sit up again, the relief instantaneous on your wounds.

“I wish it was me instead.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do.”

“Don’t.”

“Do.”

“Why? What is wrong with you?” You scrunch your face, the idea of getting hurt for the sake of getting hurt is unfathomable to you.

“I love you. Do I need a reason?” Warrior sighs and runs his hand through his hair before stopping half way with bulging eyes and a panicked face.

You also stop drinking the potion, letting a small drop fall from your lips and down your chin.

“Warrior.”

“You didn’t hear that.”

“Oh my god.”

“I didn’t just say that.”

“Link.”

“We don’t have to speak about this ever again. Or ever speak again. To each other. If you want. I’m going to die now. Ok. Bye.” Warrior stands up suddenly and begins to walk away from you.

“You better not die on me!” You growl and pull his scarf tighter around yourself, fighting through the swamped fabric to get to your feet as well. “I’ll kill you if you die. Don’t leave me here alone. I’ll kill you if you leave me here.”

“I’m going to find-”

“My clothes.” You cut him off. “Where are my clothes? Find those.”

“Ok. Ok. Yeah, of course, right- you’re still- Ok.” He paces around a bit before turning on his heel in a circle, finding your clothes somewhere off in the corner where he left them. He’s quick to make his way over to them and pick them up.

He clears his throat when he drops them at your feet and turns his back to you. “Any other idea where to go from here? Or how to get to the others?”

“Link.” You call his name again.

Warrior gulps and puts his hands over his face, his whole body tensing up. He nearly jumps in his skin when he feels your hand on his shoulder and your lips on the shell on his ear. He’s shaking.

Hylia help him. You make him weak.

“I love you too.” He feels you grin and he doesn’t even try to stop the shudder that rips through his body.

You give him a tiny kiss on his ear and he borderline whimpers from the contact.

“Oh this’ll be fun.” You giggle and Warrior bites his lip at the tone of your voice.

“Go easy on me?”

“Not a chance, soldier boy.” You laugh.

Warrior almost regrets this.

Almost.

Wild

Wild wasn’t sure what he was seeing or experiencing. There was colors and feelings and voices that he knew he was supposed to know... but when he woke up in the middle of the night, he couldn’t think of a reason as to why any of that would be familiar. Nothing made sense and he couldn’t even remember what his dream was about.

He tried not to be upset by it.

Every time this happened it he knew he was dreaming about his past- but any recollection of it seemed to slip through his fingers. Always so close and yet so far.

He rubbed his eyes of the not shed tears and looked around the camp.

Time and Twilight were still sleeping- so at least they won’t have to know that it happened again. Legend and Hyrule were once again asleep next to each other with Sky sprawled full eagle next to them. Wind and Warriors were next to each other, sleeping back to back and sharing his scarf like a blanket. Four was on watch and when he noticed that Wild was awake, he nodded with a small smile and went back to looking into the fire- which really meant he went back into his thoughts.

You on the other hand, were sleeping alone, curled up on yourself and clutching your blanket tightly with both of your hands.

You looked like you were in pain.

Wild felt his heart call out to you, as it usually does and watched you for a moment, trying to see if there would be reasonable cause for him to intervene.

You could be in real pain and just asleep but he wouldn’t be able to help with that. Or you could be trapped in a nightmare and he would gladly wake you up- but you weren’t showing any signs of the latter.

Wild hums and shimmies back down into his bed roll, readying himself to attempt to go back to sleep.

He’ll make you something special in the morning. Hopefully that help balance out the upset night you’re both having.

Suddenly there’s a gasp and Wild twists over to look in the direction it came from.

After waiting a few seconds, you sit up and rub your eyes, smacking your face a little as you look around the group. Your movements are a little frantic as you look around, your eyes land on Four for a split second and wave to him before hopping around and twisting to come face to face with him.

Wild freezes, not expecting you to look as shaken as you do.

There’s a whole wave of unshed tears in your eyes but you seem to relax slightly at the sight of him.

Wild doesn’t know what to feel about that.

You gulp down what sounds like a desperate breath and blink, sending the tears down your face. “Wild-” You croak. “-Are you ok?”

Him?

You’re asking him if he’s ok?

“Yeah- I’m-” He clears his throat to not sound so groggy. “I’m ok.”

“Anything hurt?”

“No.” He tilts his head. What an odd question. “I just woke up from a memory is all.”

Maybe you’re asking him why he’s also awake.

“Oh. Good.” You nod and rub your eyes again. But then you panic. “I mean- Not good good! But like.... I’m glad you’re not hurt.”

You stand suddenly and rub your arms frantically to fight the mild chill in the air.

“I’ll be right back.”

Wild doesn’t even get the chance to ask you’re ok as well. You nod once again to Four, who’s now paying a little more attention to his surroundings, and leave the camp entirely.

Wild stands up as soon as you’re out of sight and kicks away the blanket from his feet, making his way after you as quietly as he can manage.

Four looks in his direction and raises an eyebrow, not saying anything.

“It’s dangerous to go alone.” Wild hisses under his breath, just loud enough for Four to hear him. “I’m just gonna check on them.”

“Hurry back.” Four replies. “I gotta wake the Old Man soon and I don’t want to explain why two people, one of which is you, are missing.”

Wild nods and picks up his pace.

He prays you didn’t go far. The night in this forest seems to be particularly dark, and it’s hard for him to see what’s in from of him. If you went too far ahead, he’d have no way of getting to you.

Luckily, he steps a twig which tips your hand. He sees the movement in front of him, of the shadows jumps to look behind.

“It’s me.” He says in a little more normal voice. “It’s ok. Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Oh...” He hears you say. There’s a slight wobble in your voice. “Did you need something?”

“I’m fine. I’m more concerned about you right now.” Wild makes his way closer, pushing a branch away from his face and stepping into your personal space. “It’s a bit late for an evening stroll. It’s even more dangerous to go without telling anyone where you’re going.”

You chuckle but it’s half hearted. “I know, I wasn’t planning on going anywhere. It’s just... Nightmare and all that. I just wanted to walk it off.”

Wild bites his lip and tries to not audibly hiss. “Do...” Would you trust him like this? “Do you want to talk about it?”

“With you?”

Ouch.

“I mean, I’m offering.” He shrugs and smiles, even if he doubts you’ll see it.

“No...” You say after a long pause. “It’s.... I mean, not with...not with you. I’m sorry. It’s really personal.”

Wild takes a breath through his nose and ignores the hurt. “Well, I’m here if you need me. But Four’s also awake, if you want to go and talk to him instead. I mean, if you want to talk about it at all... I can stay here... and wait... until you’re done... Maybe try to fall asleep elsewhere.”

“No.” You whine and Wild has a split second thought that you might be crying. “Don’t- don’t leave me. Please. I think I... I think I just need to see you or hear you... What did- Why are you up? ...Again. You said it was a memory?”

“I don’t really remember.” Wild reaches forward and places his hand on your shoulder, followed quickly by his other one. He really wishes he can see your face. “I feel like I should but I don’t. It’s happening more often now than before and I don’t know what to think of it.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Tell me about it.” He huffs moving his hand to brush your hair behind your ear. In the process of doing that, the back of his fingers run across your cheek and he notes that it’s wet.

You are crying.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” He tries again, heart aching in tandem with your pain, even if he doesn’t know what caused it.

“Wild-”

“It doesn’t have to be with me, just-”

“But I want to talk with you. Just not about that.”

“But you shouldn't hold it in. Talk to me, please. How can I help?”

“Wild, not with you-”

“Why not with me?”

“I don’t want to talk about it with you because it’s about you!” Your voice cracks and he can feel your hands fly to your face to cover it.

Wild can admit that he was being a little pushy towards the end there but your words strike him physically. He can feel his heart speed up at the thought and he’s quick to gulp down a breath. A nightmare? With him?

“Did I hurt you?” He asks in a whisper, leaning closer but loosening his grip on your shoulders.

He doesn’t know what hurts more.

The thought of him hurting you or the thought that you think he’s capable and willing to hurt you.

Does he scare you?

Do you actually hate him?

How does he fix this?

“No...” You finally answer him and step into his arms, placing your face (hands still there) into the crook of his neck. “You got hurt.”

Oh.

“You got hurt bad.”

Oh.

“They hurt you so bad, Link.” You break into a sob and wrap your arms around his neck. “There was so much blood- and- and- I couldn’t do anything. And you weren’t moving. And I tried calling out to you but you weren’t answering me and- and they were gonna take you away and kill you and I couldn’t- You couldn’t even fight back-”

He doesn’t even think to ask you who’s this ‘they’ you speak of. Wild tightly wraps his arms around you and buries his face into your hair. “Shhh... It’s ok. It wasn’t real. It was just a dream. I’m here. I’m alive. I’m ok.”

That explains why you were so shaken, why you asked him those questions, why he’s beginning to understand where you’re coming from by not wanting to tell him this...

“I know.” You whine and press yourself tighter. You focus on his heartbeat and try to convince your adrenaline filled brain that the boy in front of you if alive and unharmed and safe.

Wild reach up and tangles his fingers into your hair. He starts petting you, letting you cry into his shoulder without once letting go.

“I’ll be ok.” He tells you. “I won’t get hurt, I promise.”

You nod and move your hands from your face, wrapping them around his chest. Wild smiles somewhat despite himself and nuzzles you with the side of his head.

“I know you can’t actually promise that.” You mumble and take a deep breath, calming yourself little by little. “I appreciate the thought though.”

“I love you too much to not keep it.”

“You love me?”

Wild freezes and nervously laughs. “Did I say that?”

“That’s what I heard.” You sniffle and lean away from him. “Is that what you said?”

Wild can see what little moonlight is left to look you in the eye and he swallows. “Yes.”

“Do you mean it?”

“...Yes.”

Wild’s heart is pounding now and he’s trying to calm down to hear beyond the blood in his ears.

He sees you smile and you go back to leaning against him, your nose just barely brushing up against his neck. “I love you too. Stay with me?”

“Yes...” Wild holds you tight again and gulps. “Yes. I will. As long as you’ll have me.”

Four for his part, had woken up Time ages ago, not wanting to put up with whatever mess you two would have found yourselves in. Time had followed in the direction Four had pointed him in and had found both of you there, arms around each other and asleep against a tree just beyond the camp.

Time sighs and is tempted to leave you there but his conscious won’t let him.

Wild is embarrassed to be caught but you’re too sleepy to consider why you’re awake again.

You hold Wild closer in your half consciousness and he’s forced to carry you back to the camp under Time’s judgmental and knowing stare.

Wind

“Ha ha haha ha!” You cheer and wave the key in front of Wind’s face. “I got the keeyy~!”

“I see that.” Wind pouts slightly and crosses his arms. “And I would have gotten it too if you weren’t faster than me.”

“But I got it! I win!” You skip and go to open up the locked door on the other side of the room.

“We’re not done yet.” Wind reminds you and there’s a new thing in the other room that he haven’t seen before.

There’s a pedestal in the middle with an open book and multiple candles in a circle around it. The air is strangely sweet and warm and it would lull you to sleep if you were allow yourself to relax.

“This is nice for a change.” You comment. “Smells way better than-”

“Than the past three dungeons in total.” Wind interrupts.

You pause and look at him, shrugging. “I mean...I was gonna say ‘our group’ but you’re not wrong.”

“Our group? What’s wrong with our group?” Wind asks you with a tilt to his head. Do they smell? Is he smelly? Do you think he’s smelly?

“You’re all gross and smell bad.” You say with a scrunched up nose. Wind would think it was cute if it wasn’t for your words.

“I don’t smell that bad.” Wind argues. “I don’t smell at all actually.”

“You’re all smelly.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“All teenage boys smell bad!”

“Ok fine! Who’s the worst?” Wind finds himself asking, if only so he doesn’t fight with you. “Who smells so bad that you can’t even stand to be near them?”

This causes you to pause for real this time and he stops next to you to let you think before you both go any further.

“You do.”

“What?”

“Kidding!” You smack his chest lightly with the back of your hand. “Since he’s not here, I’d have to say Sky, next is Twilight but he has a good routine of keeping clean so it’s not as bad.”

This confuses Wind slightly and he steps further into the room to investigate as he talks. “Sky? I thought you’d say Wild or Hyrule. I’m not surprised about Twilight being that high on your list. He always smells like some kind of animal.”

“I think it’s that pelt of his.” You admit. “Sky just smells strong. It’s not bad or anything but he always somehow smells like a cucco and I can’t unsmell it no matter how hard I try.”

“Ok. But why not Wild or Hyrule? They can smell pretty funky too.”

“Wild jumps into too many rivers for it to count and I think there’s something about Hyrule’s magic and his friendship with fairies that keep him from smelling too bad.” You walk up to the pedestal and get on your tip toes to look at the book. “He tends to just smell like sugar water and lemon drops.”

Wind gulps a bit as he tears himself away from staring at you when you bend over and tries to find any hidden latches on the walls or any floor tiles that seem out of place.

Nothing.

“What about me though?” He says to fill the silence. “Where do I fall on your list of smells?”

“You smell like sea salt and river water after it’s rained.” You try to latch your foot onto one of the carving and hoist yourself higher. “It’s not bad and it’s not too strong either... so like maybe an eight of ten.”

“Out of the ten of us?”

“Oh, I meant like on a scale how good verses how bad it is. Compared to the ten of us, you’re like number three. Four actually smells the cleanest with Warrior right after him, then you.” You push yourself up and try to find purchase with your other foot, not paying attention to how the flame on the candles grow.

“Four? The blacksmith?” Wind gives up on his search and turns around to see your perilous position. “Hey get down! You might hurt yourself!”

Wind doesn’t notice the flames either, but you’re tipping the pedestal at an unsafe angle.

He doesn’t want to come off as over protective and make you feel like you can’t protect yourself, knowing what that feels like, but the idea of you going face first into the floor has him incredibly nervous.

He dashes up to you and pushes it back into place.

“Oh.” You perk up and grin up at him. “Thanks. Come see what’s in this book. I don’t know what it says but it looks important.”

Wind frowns a little and lets go. The pedestal stays standing as it should and he’s a little less nervous about you falling. He comes around to your side and you hop off to make room for him. As he tries to copy your movements to get up onto it, his hand brushes your shoulder and your hair.

Startled by the unexpected proximity, you take a step back and knock over one of the candles.

“Good job.” Wind says automatically at the sound.

“Thanks Link.” You stick your tongue out and go to pick it up. “I can feel your love and support for miles.”

“That’s the idea.”

“Well do you have any idea of what to do next because I sure don’t.” You look away and suddenly notice the size of the flames. They keep growing bigger and bigger and you latch onto the back of Wind’s shirt to pull him away. “Something’s happening.”

On cue, the flames grow large enough to touch and you can begin to feel your eyes begin to close.

Wind takes out his boomerang to fight the ever growing flames and he tosses it in hopes of extinguishing it but there’s no such luck to be found. What’s worse, you fall on top of him and he’s forced to catch you as you fall unconscious.

A deep laughter resonate around the room and the flames grow upward and sideways, parting to crate two arm like figures and two beady eyes with a mouth in the middle.

“A life force is always sweetest when young.” It laughs again and tries to reach for you. Wind brings out his deku leaf and blasts the flame away from touching you, standing over your body in an effort to protect you.

“What did you do!?” Wind finds himself asking the creature. It’s in anger more than it is to learn what’s happened but the creature responds to it regardless.

“Those who read my book, are under my spell and those who are under my spell, become mine to consume. The young always have a bit of fat in them still... makes them all the more delicate a treat. You’d join your friend in the same way had you read my book for longer, but I suppose this works either way.”

Wind begins to panic and he doesn’t think his deku leaf will be enough to fight the flame, nor will his sword do any damage. There’s not enough time to reach for a different weapon and there’s no way he can run past the flames without being hurt. Maybe he would survive if it was just him, but he’s not going to leave you behind.

Not now, not ever.

Wind gets up on his feet and take a deep breath. It’s thick and laced with enough smoke to make him cough but he stands tall and firm.

He needs to buy time.

Enough time that he can think of a plan and execute it without hurting you in the crossfire.

The creature closes in on the two of you and Wind is pressed by the lack of options.

Suddenly, Wind spots Wild through the gaps of the eyes and mouth on the other side of the room. Wild stands there shocked and confused but shoots the pedestal with the most apathetic ice arrow he can manage.

The flame dies instantly and the creature is cut off with a horrible ear piercing screech.

Wind covers his ears from the sounds as it dies out and misses Wild call his name in concern when he’s noticed. Instead, when the noise is gone, he turns on his heel and crouches over you. He shakes your shoulder violently and begins to whine in concern when he doesn’t get an answer.

Wild jogs up next to him and places a hand on Wind’s shoulder. Wind turns to the older hero before he can even speak and yells. “Where’s Legend or Hyrule or someone who’s good with magic? That thing put them to sleep with a spell in that stupid book and they’re not waking up!”

“What happened to you two?!” Wild replies as he dashes toward the ice brick that he’s formed.

“Don’t look at the pages! Don’t try to read it! I think it makes him stronger.” Wind cries out as he rolls you on your side.

“What even was that thing?” Wild dashes back to Wind’s side with the book under his arm.

“I don’t know but it wanted to eat them.” Wind can feel the panic tear into his heart and soul at your unknown fate and he hates that he doesn’t know what to do. “Wild help!”

“Ok. Ok. Here, let’s get them out of here first and we can go get help the others.” Wild stuffs the book in his slate and reaches over to pick you up, trying to be gentle in case you have any injuries that he can’t see.

Wind takes out his sword and takes the lead, making sure nothing else from the room surprise attacks them and that there’s nothing in front of them that will also attack.

“What if they don’t get better?” Wind looks back at Wild and finishes with looking at your face. He’s briefly reminded of that time Tetra was turned into stone and how there wasn’t much he could do to help her. The difference here is that you’re still flesh and blood and you look peaceful despite the circumstance of your sleep.

“They will.” Something catches Wild’s attention in the distance and he goes to place you on the ground. “I think I see Time. Stay with them, watch over them. I’ll be back.”

“Ok.” Wind takes a step to let him pass and waits for a second before sitting next to you. He reaches over and runs his finger through your hair, brushing it gently from your face.

He turns away then and sighs, settling his hands on his knees. “I hope you wake up. I need to be able to tell you that I like you.”

There’s no response- as he expected and it’s tears at his heart a little.

“I just figured this out for myself and I don’t know if there’s a way for the two of us to be together after all of this. But I don’t know if I want to live with the what if if I don’t say anything.”

“Say what?”

“I like you, a lot and there’s a lot of- wait.” Wind jolts up and shifts his eyes to look in your direction.

You’re looking at him with what he would describe as a dreamy look, sleep still holding onto you and rims of your eyes but you’re smiling and happy and soft-

“You’re ok!” Wind cries and pushes his sword out of the way, jumping into your arms and resting his head against yours. “I was worried.”

“I’m ok.”

Wind grins at your sleepy voice and it makes him giggle. Only for the other shoe to drop and he shoots his head up to look you in the eyes. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Try everything.”

“Oh no.”

“It’s ok. I like you too.” You giggle and try to sit up, brushing your hair back again and poking him in the nose. “You smell like smoke now.”

“Is it bad?” He blinks and pulls at his tunic to sniff himself.

Yes, he does smell like smoke but he can still faintly smell the salt you mentioned earlier.

“No.” You smile and crawl into his personal space, using his lap as a pillow. “It’s warm.”

Wind’s breath stutters a little and he gulps, hesitantly putting his hand in your hair to run his fingers through it.

He looks back up just in time to see Wild and Time return with knowing smiles on their faces. He flushes deeply, but lets you go back to sleep peacefully, no longer afraid of any what if’s.

You’re warm in his lap and he smiles.

Part 3

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader

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